Because
by Empryexl
Summary: Because Sawamura Eijun just happened to be the cousin of Nakano Emiri, she had to transfer schools to Seidō of all places. She didn't even like that annoyance she was forced to call cousin. And she hated even more that their grandfather, her parents and her aunt and uncle, put the responsibility of taking care of stupid Ei-chan on her—excuse you, they had teachers for that!
1. Chapter I — Her Name Is Nakano Emiri

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape of form, own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter I — Her Name Is Nakano Emiri**

* * *

 _Everything was spiraling out of control._

 _._

 _._

 _._

" _Okaa-san_ please," Emiri begged for the umpteenth time that day alone. " _Please_. I was doing just fine at Tōō!"

 _[Emi-chan,]_ her mother admonished, _[transferring schools isn't going to ruin your art career.]_

"But the art program there is better!"

 _[You went there because of Shōichi-kun.]_ Nakano Eiko snipped back.

"I have more self-respect than that," Emi muttered underneath her breath, too low for her mother to hear over the line. "Ei- _chan_ is a big boy now! Why do I have to take care of him?"

 _[Because, he needs all the help that he can get—you know your cousin, Emi-chan. And besides, with you there he's never going to get in trouble.]_

" _Okaa-san_ —"

 _[Sorry, Emi-chan but I need to go now—bye!]_

" _Okaa-san_ —" the dial tone cut Emi off. She stared at her blank phone screen, feeling more than just a little annoyed at her mother's easy dismissal. Kissing her teeth in annoyance, she shoved her phone into her school bag and yanked at the stifling school sweater.

"If I had done that to her, she would've given me the dressing down of a lifetime... " Emi muttered underneath her breath, a scowl setting over her pretty features. "She gets mad at me when I don't text her back in five minutes—what she would do to me if I hung up on her like that... "

And not to mention, what did her mother mean when Ei- _chan_ wouldn't get into trouble with her around?

Did she not remember when the cousins had to be hospitalized after they went apple picking?

And Eijun had somehow, with his powers of idiocy, managed to piss off an entire bee hive of which they were both allergic to?

Emi's face had looked more like a tomato than a tomato looked like a tomato for at least six hours.

Or when she nearly drowned because the idiot had managed to drag her off a—somewhat short—cliff when their families had gone to the beach when she had been eight and he seven?

Or when he set her hair on fire with the flames of his birthday cake candles?

Did her mother not remember any of that? Because Emi sure did.

"She's not even considering my health at all, stupid mother."

Her mother had also disregarded the heart attack she was sure she had when she found out Eijun was doing his high school schooling in _Tokyo_! Now Tokyo was a densely populated prefecture, that much was true, with a ton of schools in each district, but knowing her luck? Emi would be lucky if she landed in the hospital or died a quick death with her younger cousin within a hundred kilometres difference—she was barely safe when her cousin lived just over two hundred kilometres away in Nagano!

But with Eijun living in Tokyo? And the two of them going to school together?

That just spelled out _STRESS_ for Emi—especially her heart.

Emi couldn't even do anything for her own health at this point. Not only did her father support her mother's suggestion of sending her to the same school as he imbecile of a cousin, he had arranged all the necessary paperwork within the week of the news. She was lucky she hadn't transferred to Seidō as soon as their _Jii-chan_ has called with the news! Her parents had at the very least let her finish the term at Tōō.

But now she had to start anew at a different high school that was an hour commute—by train—away in comparison to Tōō's fifteen minutes' walk—she was losing a half hour of sleep and two hours of procrastinating! Not only that but she to socialize to make new friends. That meant she was wasting precious time for her drawings, paintings, calligraphy and all that visual art "trash" she adored. The school environment would be different too and she would have to deal with being as green as the first years in navigating the school—talk about embarrassing.

Really, Emi saw no benefit to this arrangement at all.

With an agonized sigh, Emi shuffled into the gates of her new school. Absentmindedly, she tugged at the hem of her skirt, scuffing her shoes as she looked up at the imposing building. The aesthetic of the school yard and the sweet smell of cherry blossoms didn't lift her mood at all.

"Somebody help me," she whined to herself. "I'm spending the next two years with Eijun. Please kill me now."

 **—** **[ + ] —**

The opening ceremony had been fairly pleasant—Seidō's principal looked like a happy old man, and her certainly didn't have the principal of Tōō's sharp tongue—and getting to her class was easy enough. Emi had just followed the herd of second years to their floor and had looked for the classroom with a plaque overhead that read 2-A. The shrill gossiping voices she could do without—and the sadistic cackling. Seriously? Not even Shōichi did that, and he was the poster boy for sadism.

Her homeroom teacher happened to be the history teacher for their grade which was just great—really. If he didn't talk in a monotone and had the volume of a mouse. Emi was really questioning whether or not the man realized his students were teenagers and hence, easily distracted when bored to tears.

At least she had gotten a window seat.

It was the only good thing the day seemed to yield. Seidō had a more of a natural beauty to their school than Tōō did—but then again, Tōō was closer downtown. Trees lined up behind the brick walls and gate, bushes lining the perimeter of the school itself.

It wasn't as green as Nagano but it was green enough for Tokyo—

Chiming filled the hallways and classrooms, blaring from the PA system and signalling the end of the class.

Emi immediately perked up, eyes shifting to the clock—

And then immediately deflated. The clock had to be lying to her because certainly the school day had to be over, it had not just been an hour.

"You have to be fucking with me," Emi seethed, slamming her hand on her desk and disregarding the startled squeaks and nervous laughter around her. A bemused chuckle broke her out of her angry trance, so with narrowed eyes and crossed arms, she whipped around to give the mocking little shit a dose of her infamous death glare.

Even the stubborn Sawamura Eitoku cowered underneath his adorable granddaughter's venomous gaze.

A round faced boy immediately raised his hands in surrender, trembling at the cool eyes that promised death by several means of torture. The girl sitting in front of him was scarier than Asuma- _senpai_. Gulping, he raised his hands higher and leaned back as far as he could from the girl with the murderous glare.

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be," Emi sniffed derisively.

Kawakami bit back a squeak at her bite, only letting the tension from his shoulders pool on the ground when she had harrumphed and turned to face the front.

And he had thought he was lucky when he ended up in a different class than Miyuki and Kuramochi. Isashiki- _senpai_ had a temper but at least the upperclassmen didn't hurt them enough to warrant actual injuries. But the new girl had no such reservations to not hurt him seeing as she wasn't even part of the team, much less called him friend.

Kawakami made the decision then and there to try his best not to piss off the new girl because she didn't seem to mind throwing hands.

Kawakami'd rather not have to deal with funeral preparations so soon.

 **—** **[ + ] —**

"I'm going to kill that fucking idiot."

Members of the surrounding audience swivelled their attention to the dark-haired girl that was pacing along a metre stretch of fencing and muttering obscenities.

"I am going to wring his neck like a towel until he turns so fucking purple he looks like fine wine, and then—then! I am going to break every single bitch ass bone in his body—starting with his precious fingers—precious my ass! And if he fucking cries, I'm going to demonstrate how the fuck you're supposed to hit a baseball—none of that nothing but air bullshit because stupid ass fucking Eijun—"

—here, Emi glared at the distinctly crying and running figure on the other side of the field—

"— _bloody fucking stupid Eijun is a complete and total dumbfuck_!"

Emi seethed, growling and wringing her hands because she was so, so, so pissed.

"Waste of my fucking time! How the Hell did you manage to piss your coach off on the _first_ fucking day?!"

Eijun cringed, moving away from the fencing and perimeter of the field as he rounded closer and closer to his seething cousin. Better to be safe than sorry. Knowing Emi, she would find someway to walk through the fencing, grab him and gut him as an example of why exactly you don't piss her off.

 _'I thought Kaa-san was joking! But Emi-nee really is here!'_

The boy gulped when he made his second incredibly stupid mistake of the day—making eye contact with his cousin. The gleam in her eye was just a little more than demonic at this point and the aura she was exuding wasn't helping his shot nerves at all. Emi grinned—and were her teeth always that shiny and sharp-looking?—brought her thumb to her neck and made a vivid, and horrifyingly accurate slashing motion, all while maintaining eye contact.

 _'I'm going to die.'_

 _'He's going to be six feet under in six seconds... I can't wait until I get my hands on him.'_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So this is what happens when I suddenly feel the urge to re-watch a couple DnA episodes. And I like to think Emiri is the better version of my trashy ass.**


	2. Chapter II — What Happens Next

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape of form, own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter II — What Happens Next**

* * *

 _Emotional roller coasters are the worst kind of rides._

 _._

 _._

 _._

To Eijun's unbridled joy and Emi's unbridled fury, they weren't exactly able to have an actual reunion. This, of course, dampened Emi's plans of murder dramatically as she hadn't expected her cousin's practices—well, his _team'_ s practices—to run so late. The sun had already dipped down passed the horizon by the time Emi realized she _wasn't_ going to get her hands to him.

Luckily enough, her face had been scrunched in a manner befitting of murder so the crowd had dissipated fairly quickly—kind of like dry ice in water, the remnants being wisps of wisps of "smoke." So, she had gotten to the station unhindered by other pedestrians and her mood left unbothered.

This was rather unfortunate for the younger cousin because she got to stew over her annoyance with him.

(It seemed like the two cousins were both having odd days.)

And it really felt like an odd day for Emi.

She wasn't the type of artist that the media liked to display as free-spirited or idiosyncratic—although her pieces were formed from a plethora of mediums—she was a _perfectionist_. She liked things tidy, organized and identifiable. She didn't mind surprises—and this transfer hadn't really been a surprise, she had known for _months_ now—but she didn't like being thrown so far out her bubble. Being a perfectionist—at least to her—meant knowing the possible outcomes, knowing her environment.

She didn't know Seidō, and what normalcy she had thought she would keep from Tōō had thrown out the window for about two weeks now.

At times like these, she wished she had her three cousins' stubbornness.

(Not to say she _wasn't_ stubborn, she just wasn't as stubborn as Daichi, Suzume or Eijun.)

She flicked her cellphone open with a flick of her wrist, her lips twisting into an annoyed frown at her own actions. Her scowl deepened as a middle-aged woman quickly sidestepped her, the woman's pace quickening as her eyes fluttered from her face to a point on the far wall.

 _"Don't backtrack yourself_. _"_

She was going to get it later—if _she_ ever found out.

 _[Moshi_ _moshi_? _]_ came the smooth—and dare she think, _seductive_ —drawl. Emiri couldn't help the hitch in her breathing as she heard him greet her in his signature carefree drawl, punctuated by his polite Kansai accent.

"...Hi."

 _[Ah, Emi-_ _chan_ _? What can I do for ya'?]_

Emi shouldered her way past an older man dressed in a suit as she entered the bullet train. The station's lights were overly bright against the darkened sky and what few bodies remained loitering around were waiting for the other train.

"I wanted to talk."

 _[Hm? I wouldn't say 'no' t'you, Emi-_ _chan_ _, but ya know I'm kinda_ busy _right now—]_

Emi clicked her phone closed, an ugly expression knotting her brows, pinching her features and an annoyed hiss left her lips. "Why did I bother? _Asshole_."

Emi briefly mused at the fact she was beginning to sound like her other cousin, a year her elder and a girl as well, in her opinions of Shōichi. Suzume was more Eijun's clone than hers, although the two girls amongst the cousins did share a passion—once upon a time—for dancing. Suzume had favoured contemporary and hip-hop while Emi, when she hadn't been hospitalized for one thing or another, had favoured all types of dances. Suzume also had an unrivalled hatred for her _complicated_ friend and wasn't afraid to get in the boy's face to cuss him off—one of the few differences that separated her from Eijun—while the youngest of the four cousins would quake in fear in friend's presence.

Her doctor had encouraged her interest in the visual arts as much as her parents had, to help muscle growth with how long she was kept on bed rest with all the various injuries she would accumulate whenever she and Eijun spent time together. Despite the younger cousin's recklessness, some- _fucking-_ how, Emiri had always been the one that ended up with the brunt of the physical retributions.

More than a few broken bones.

At least two concussions.

Teeth that had been knocked out.

Allergic reactions.

Several first-degree burns.

 _Getting knocked out. Several times._

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Emi snapped suddenly, scaring the poor boy—he looked to be her age or a bit younger—that was seated several seats away who then hid behind his bag. "I'm going to end up in the infirmary one way or another, aren't I?"

It was impossible for her not to.

One of her earliest memories of having a play date with Eijun ended up with her getting a split lip from falling and her face swelling in plum-sized welts from bee stings—Eijun had accidently knocked a hive down when they were playing catch—and she had to stay overnight at the local hospital in their grandparents' and Eijun's home town.

Needless to say, the staff had become well acquainted with her over the years, especially when she moved to Nagano temporarily back in primary school for the third to sixth grade.

Actually, everyone had known her as the "Sick Girl" and everyone stopped blinking at the casts she would wear after the third one. Her teachers had been worried about child abuse—like her parents were abusive; annoyingly annoying, but they could _never_ be abusive—until they had witnessed what happened when she Eijun would interact.

Hell, the school nurse had a bed reserved for her and everything—she even kept a small collection of educational books for the girl to read when she would find herself there—since her visits to the infirmary were, at the very least, weekly.

...Now that she thought about it, Emi had a pretty _sad_ childhood.

And as much as she blamed Eijun for all her accidents and days indoors—that was why she so _fucking_ pale, she swore—the idiot really did feel sorry and bore the brunt of her temper with little hesitation.

The little demon child had made her get-well cards with gigantic smiley faces and would pick flowers from the road-side for his visits—even when Emi demanded him to be thrown out.

On the other hand...

She still couldn't excuse his behaviour from today. The fucking _bitch_.

He had the gall to waste _her_ time?

She could feel her blood pressure begin to rise as the nostalgia left her bones and she begin to seethe. Emi lived further from Seidō than comfortable commuting distance, she had pieces she wanted to finish and she had to cram some study time here and there to keep on top of her school work—especially considering she lack any motivation to do it.

And _fuck_ , she had another side project to do that was unrelated to school and art—a favour, more or less—and her dumbass had promised it to be ready for April 7th—the day after tomorrow—but she hadn't fucking started because she was a procrastinator through and through!

She had wanted to start it tonight— _really—_ but she had gotten distracted and—

"Oh, _fuck_ my life."

And to make matters worse, her overly keen eyes had picked out familiar black hair, fair skin and silver, square-framed glasses.

"Oh _, fuck my life_."

The wide grin that split the near-psychic teen's face was downright _disturbing_.

Emi wasn't the only one that shivered at the sight, catching several inching away at the sight of the wicked look, more than few quickening their pace and refraining from looking up and all the strangers around them giving them a wide berth.

But despite her distaste for the teen currently standing in front of her, she didn't stop his overly affectionate gesture of tracing over her face with the rough pads of his fingers in a languid motion. Smooth, intentional and calculating—the teen down to the very core expressed in a single motion.

She didn't dissuade him from wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side, her tiny stature perfectly fitting into the expanse of his lean figure but if anyone asked—and she would vigorously argue that this was true—she _didn't_ lean into his chest, breathe in his scent that was unmistakably him, and Emiri definitely did not purr when he ran his fingers through her air nor when she felt the vibration of his chuckle through his chest.

For now, she would allow his touch.

It was comforting, above all, and...

And...

And.

(She couldn't help but imagine a different smile, softer around the edges and drawn up in actually sincere affection rather than sharp lines of a smirk, taunting and teasing.)

 **— [ + ] —**

When Nakano Katsuki got home, he hadn't really expected his daughter to be there—he had gotten home fairly late after all—so he had taken his shoes off, said his greetings in a respectable tone of voice and volume and set off to find the food his wife had set aside for him once he had informed Eiko of his belatedness.

Although he hadn't expected his wife to have a—dare he say it—ditzy expression on her face as she smiled widely and greeted him with a saccharine tone that did not suit her typically passive-aggressive, more aggressive than passive, demeanor.

"Eiko?" He called, hesitant and slightly disbelieving.

Eiko looked up at him—though their height difference wasn't too great, Katsuki had roughly ten centimetres on her—with warm eyes and a content hum leaving her sealed lips.

The simple expression of happiness on his wife's face made his heart bloom with joy and a crooked, boyish smile split his face—making him look twenty years younger. "I'm guessing Emi- _chan_ isn't mad at us anymore?"

Eiko hummed so more, handing him the other cup of tea she had made and gently nudged him to the dining room table. He unravelled the dishes covered in plastic wrap as his wife scooped out some rice for him and listened to her talk. "She's in a better mood than she has been in the past two weeks—and I didn't get any calls from the school, so it's safe to assume Ei- _chan_ is alive."

Katsuki raised a brow. "Not well?"

Eiko gave him an exasperated eye roll before sitting to his right. Katsuki laughed around the food in his mouth and swallowed. "You're right, that's too presumptuous—she inherited too much from yo— _ITAI_! Eiko!"

Eiko gave her husband an innocent flutter of her eyelashes before she continued. "Ei- _chan_ is adorable—adorably _stupid_ , but adorable. And our Emi- _chan_ gets bored with stupid unless she's the one being stupid."

"Again, she got that from you—" He ducked, avoiding the sweep of her hand. Really, it was so easy to ruffle his wife's family—a fact that the notorious prankster in him loved to exploit; it didn't do well for his employment if he got caught doing the shenanigans he would pull in his school days so he took what he could get.

"Still, I worry for Ei- _chan'_ s health more than Emi _-_ _chan'_ s, our daughter is a trooper and in no thanks due to her cousins"—Eiko shot her husband the evil eye when she suspiciously heard him mutter _something_ about her bloodline. Again—"But her mood is improving so I think there might be hope for him yet."

"She's only annoyed because of _that_ boy—with the annoyingly arrogant smirk? _Him_. I can't believe you let her date _him_ of all people, Eiko."

Katsuki was now firmly involved in his ranting and had stopped eating.

"I know she's generally annoyed with Ei- _chan_ but she's just as wrapped around his fingers as we are—the only reason she decided to go to Too of all places was because of _him_ and I know you damn well encouraged it! Really, Eiko, how could you— _you,_ who is so vehemently against revolving your life around men and—and _why_ are you smiling at me like that?"

"Shōichi- _kun_ walked her home—it was adorable really, she went up to her room to sulk after he untangled himself from her and left."

" _What_."

"I'm glad they stopped fighting—perhaps they'll be back together again soon?"

" _What_?"

Eiko continued to ignore her husband's increasing panic with an amused smile. "I'm debating about whether or not to tell her your real intentions for transferring her to Seidō—"

" _What?!_ "

 **— [ + ] —**

Emiri startled out of her trance when she heard a loud bang and unrecognizable screeching but relaxed when she recognized the tone as her father's. Everyone referred to her mother as dramatic, and Emi also believed that she was, but her father was the more dramatic of the two. Although one would never guess from the image the man imposed—taller than average, inky hair combed back and sharp, inquisitive, onyx eyes, all emphasized by the handsome suits he would wear.

She heard several louder bangs, each sounding louder than before, which she recognized as her father banging his way up the stairs.

" _Tou_ _-san_? You okay?" Emiri called out, shifting her body to look at her bedroom door.

Katsuki's frame slammed into her closed bedroom door, a groan escaping him. "I'm okay, Emi- _chan_ _,_ " he replied, opening her door and letting his gaze scan her room minutely. "I heard _he_ walked you home."

Emi rolled her eyes and fell back onto her bed. " _Kaa_ _-san_!"

"I know, Emi- _chan_ _,_ " her mother sounded, probably behind her father's frame. A manicured hand grasped her husband's ear and _yanked_. "Dear, she wants alone time."

"And _you're_ sucking up to her so she's not mad at you anymore—"

"I am _not_."

"Are _too_."

" _No._ "

" _Yes_."

" _Katsuki_ , I'm _not_ —"

"And I'm saying you _are_ —"

Her parents failed to notice her pushing them out the door way and back towards the landing as they childishly argued. Emi successfully closed her door, her parents squabble successfully muffled, not without hearing her father say her mother was _shit_ at self-analyzation and her squawk of protest—making her grin, a laugh wanting to bubble its way past her lips.

And while Emiri did agree with her father's opinion of her mother's behaviour, she couldn't help but think her mother also did it because Emiri's patience with the both of them was exponentially decreasing by the day.

Of no fault of their own, really.

Emiri was just...

 _Tired_.

It wasn't a good sort of tired. Sometimes she just felt _numb_ and sometimes she felt everything at once. She wasn't particularly astute about her own characteristics but she at least knew she was being bitchier these past few months, and especially in the past two weeks. And while Emiri blamed her younger cousin for her—more or less—temper tantrum earlier, it was, she would admit, some part due to her own emotional flip flop.

So, she _guessed_ that going to Seidō was better than where she was at Tōō, considering it was what had been going on over there that was the root of all her problems.

She only ever had _him_ over there, most of her friends following in her elder cousin's footsteps and attending Itachiyama that was in the city over. And she wasn't as big of a fan of the people in her class—especially the oversized blonde caveman with a bullhorn for a voicebox—they were either too... insignificant or too _much_ , in her opinion.

She didn't ever want to go back to Tōō, though, no matter how much she bitched and complained about her parents' decision.

Which meant...

She really was _stuck_ with Eijun for the rest of her high school career.

And though she found that absolute idiot annoying, simple-minded, obnoxious, downright stupid—no, _incredibly_ stupid—pig-headed and an all-around pain in the ass, the moron cared about her more than anyone.

He would always seek her out and make her feel special and always chased after her and calling her "Emi- _nee"_ even when she told him to _fuck off_.

Emi looked over at her sketchbook, having abandoned it on the far side of her bed, to her right, when she pushed her parents out of her doorway—who were still arguing who was sucking up or not—and found herself heaving out a breath at the sight. The lines were messy, but she was also messy in the preliminary stages, but the model of the picture was abundantly clear.

She had roughly sketched the skeletal base of _him_ , mid-drive, elbow bent near ninety degrees, tilted forward at the waist, legs pushing at the ground with one foot lifted off as he sprinted forward. Though the face remained a compilation of hastily drawn circles and harsh lines, the tilt of his ever-present smirk had taken its rightful place. While the picture was of him in motion, doing something he _loved_ , she couldn't help but feel melancholy.

She flipped back towards earlier sketches, the subject remaining the same though sometimes he was joined by other figures, all the pictures radiating an aura of happiness and contentment.

Emiri switched sketchbooks and didn't know whether to cry or not.

All her sketches, unrelated to school or personal projects, were of the same subject—whether he was drawn alone or surrounded by others—all her sketches were of _him_. All her mindless sketches fell back to one person and one person alone.

She couldn't even see when her subject of choice began to be _him,_ no matter how many sketchbooks she leafed through. A bitter taste began to sit in her mouth, eyes tracing rough lines and smooth lines, noting the devolution of detail as she travelled backwards in time.

"I still don't get it," she muttered bitterly. "Probably... It's probably..."

 _Because I'm nothing like him_.

If her parents had heard the sound of sketchbooks slamming into the far wall, they didn't care to tell her to quiet down. Emi stomped back to her bed and ignored the sound of her stomach rumbling its demand for food. She thought back about the events today, as a distraction to her current ire, and found herself feeling guilty.

While she was more than pissed off at Eijun and his faults, she had been an _asshole_ to people that didn't deserve her anger—not including her parents.

That lady she had scared out of her way as she got off the train.

Some middle schoolers that were there when she called her mother.

A handful of school mates when she walked onto the school's grounds with a permeating aura of death.

Those spectators at the baseball practice today when she had caught Eijun in his punishment.

All those pedestrians she'd terrified on her way to the train station as well as the people on the train.

And especially that boy in her class who had looked like he would piss himself right there and then at her glare. Not only that, she'd basically verbally grabbed him by the balls and told him to bow down to her.

"I should apologize to that boy," Emiri mused absentmindedly. She still hadn't changed out of her uniform, nor had she moved from her sprawled out position on her bed. The girl felt as if she'd been drained of any kind of effort—a feeling that was beginning to happen frequently.

Emiri briefly wondered if she was going as crazy as the rest of her family.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I've been meaning to upload this since May but never got around to actual editing, revising and then publishing until now. Summer Vacay for the high school student y'all.**


	3. Chapter III — On the Upside

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form, own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_. **

* * *

**Chapter III — On the Upside**

* * *

 _There is some good amongst the bad, no matter how small or insignificant. Good does exists._

 _._

 _._

 _._

The following morning, Kawakami woke up; a little stiff, but otherwise he didn't have any complaints. The pitcher didn't expect anything out of his normal morning routine. He woke earlier than most of his peers for morning baseball practice, he ate the mandatory three bowls of rice with the dishes the kitchen staff had lovingly prepared and had done the necessary cool down stretches to prevent stiffness later on.

Nothing out of the ordinary, and while some would consider this fairly exciting, he, like most of his teammates, had grown accustomed to such a schedule and thought nothing of it. His body had grown accustom to the ache of near-constant muscle exertion which was way better than how he was last year. Admittedly, this did have the downside of having a hard time sitting down for too long.

Still, the first years were still growing accustomed and, now that he was a second-year, Nori couldn't help but feel elated that he was no longer facing the same scrutiny as last year. But the crippling guilt he felt for just watching his peers and seniors bully them was, well, _crippling_. The only thing that soothed his poor, _beaten_ , conscious was the fact that belittling the first-years was essentially tradition at this point.

It wasn't the kindest nor was friendliest kind of tradition, but it is tradition nonetheless. All the more welcomed considering how competitive it was to get on the first string, let alone win the biannual prefectural tournament. If you broke down from a little teasing, how could you manage to even hope to place on the second string?

Kawakami quickly rotated his shoulder back in a quick stretch, stifled a yawn and shuffled into the classroom with time to spare. The second-year pitcher was typically first to arrive, waking early and absolutely dreading tardiness—

—and there was someone there _before_ him?

He startled back and took in the familiar features of the girl that had terrorized him the day before.

 _And she was staring at him dead in the eye_.

Panic quickly began to bubble in his throat as he noticed the downward, twisted slant of her lips and the pinch of her eyebrows. She looked mad _already_.

 _'What was her name again?'_

His panicked thoughts led to several— _embarrassing—_ choking sounds leaving him, a blush darkening along his cheeks. But then her expression eased up, a soft, polite smile curving her lips as she raised a brow, questioningly.

"Are you all right—Kawakami-san, was it?"

"A–Ah— _hai_!" He blushed harder because _he couldn't remember her name. Fuck._

Her expression lost the softness, face neutral albeit tired. "That's good. _Ano_ … About yesterday, I'm sorry if I came off overly rude."

"N _–No_." He waved his hands, "Don't be. You seemed really mad yesterday so… _ano_ …"

She raised an elegant brow challengingly, daring him to continue.

(Really, Emi wasn't—she was _apologizing_ , she wasn't in the habit of threatening while doing so. It was _completely_ the pitcher's imagination. Kind of.)

"I–It's just that—just that you kind of… _reminded_ me of a senpai I had on the base-baseball team and…"

Her lips pinched together and—and was she _rolling_ her eyes? She shook her head, dark hair swishing from side to side, and then _laughed_. Well, it wasn't exactly a throw-your-head-back kind of laugh—more like a breathy chuckle, but still a laugh all the same.

Her eyes creased, and her lips curved upward in a gentle smile. "Ah... you're _that_ type of person, _ne_?"

 _'Eh?_ That _type of person?'_

" _A-Ano..._?" What did she mean by _that_ type of person?

Was it a _bad_ kind of person?!

Nori would concede that he had some faults as a pitcher, but he _wasn't_ a bad person… _right_?

The golden-eyed girl gave him a cryptic smile before she returned to her task before her, having been drawing before she'd been disrupted by his entrance. Nori couldn't help but trace her features as he stood there awkwardly.

 _'She's... really pretty.'_

Nori flushed once he acknowledged his observation, ducking his head quickly to mask the scarlet tint on his cheeks. If he stumbled and nearly fell as he made his way to his seat, she didn't notice and even if she did, she didn't laugh. And she didn't bother to call him out for his unapologetic staring either.

( _God_ , was he embarrassed right now.)

— **[ + ] —**

"—ri? Nori?"

Shaking his head, Nori turned to look at his peer, classmate and friend, Shirasu. The ever-serious blonde had laid a gentle but firm hand on the second-year pitcher's shoulder and had given him a firm shake to snap his conscious back into place.

The outfielder sighed, leaning back against the desk to the pitcher's right and sighed. "Are you okay? You've been distracted the entire morning."

 _Morning_?

Nori's eyes found the clock and found, to his eternal embarrassment, that it _was_ lunch time and he hadn't even noticed. He'd been so focused on—

He blushed prettily, his entire cherubic face lighting up in red and Shirasu eyed him with a bemused twinkle in his serious eyes.

"Nori?"

"It's nothing."

"Was it Nakano?"

Nori blinked. "Who…?"

"Nakano," Shirasu nodded at the empty desk in front of him. "You looked scared of her yesterday."

 _Ah_ , that's what Shirasu was implying—wait.

The pitcher shook his head at his teammate, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's not that—and she apologized already! She wasn't actually mad at me or anything..."

The outfielder's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Nori... Could it be that you have a crush on her?"

" _Shirasu_!"

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri half-heartedly glared at her cousin's running figure—the idiot flinching whenever he caught sight of her. She wasn't that mad any more, at least, not so much at him. Or maybe she was too mentally exhausted at this point to maintain her frustration? Despite, her inner musings on whether or not Emi was _actually_ mad at her baby cousin at this point, she was still _very_ much ready to tear him a new one for wasting her valuable, finite time.

But was it his fault or more so hers?

...That was arguable, at least to Emi it was. She felt like they were both to blame but outside perspectives would beg to differ.

Her scowl deepened and she noticed that the other audience members around her inched away as discreetly as they could—some she barely noticed while others practically tumbled out of her seats. The girl's lips twisted into—was that a pout?—frown, irritation blooming in her chest. She was the nice one, _okay_? Emi would be the first to confess that she had a natural RBF—as her friend would say—but if you disregarded her face and took in her figure…

She was short and had an air of fragility regardless what her _asshole_ friends would say. The _assholes_.

Of the lot of them—and there were quite a few of them and, in conjunction, were the picture perfect definition of obnoxious—Emiri was the nicest.

(That was a _lie_ and she knew it.)

She wasn't scary at all, in _her_ opinion, and she may be scary to Eijun but that's because her baby cousin had been subjected to her rampages a lot as a kid. And they were more than well deserved.

(The amount of art supplies her parents could've bought her with the fortune they spent on her medical fees.)

Emiri blinked away her irritation as hollow clangs began to sound, harsher and less consistent than wind chimes—more explosive in rhythm and reverbation. Shouts and yells were thinned out by the open air, the sound of them at least more familiar to the teenager. Abruptly, the golden-eyed girl was pushed back to a different scene, where the invigorated shouts reverberated off of high walls along with hollow bounces and squeaking when the coaches were absent, the _cacophony_ of curses would flow without abandon.

She used to sit on the bleachers then too.

Unbidden, a fond smile grew and smoothed her pinched features.

The only thing she was really missing was a clipboard, her sketchbook and some pencils—

 _Sketchbook_.

(She ignored the phantom contractions in her chest, having long since grown use to the feeling.)

Emiri sighed, setting her elbows on her thighs and her chin on the bridge of her fingers. The dark-haired girl couldn't help but feel like she was feeling more and more nostalgic ever since she started attending Seidō—and she _literally_ just started her year there.

God, her insides were so jumbled up and felt icky. Absolutely _disgusting_.

(She wasn't use to feeling so _defeated_.)

Emiri couldn't help but imagine what would've happened if she had followed after Suzume, Hana and—her self-proclaimed twin—the other Emi. And the golden-eyed girl concluded that her life, if she had done so, would probably be very different.

But what-ifs and what-could-have-beens were for the naïve and regretful and though her year at Tōō made her _sob_ and _hurt_ more than she had ever hurt before, she didn't regret it.

At least, not _that_ much.

She had deeply enjoyed the sweet, fleeting moments she had shared with her then boyfriend.

Life was, as her mother would say, just a bundle of experiences wrapped up and bound together haphazardly—as if the higher being or beings that created humans did not give a single _fuck_. Although, Emi would confess, Eiko hadn't phrased it quite like that but _everything_ is up for interpretation.

Her father did say that it was up to the audience to make up the remaining fifty percent of the message—unless, of course, the meaning was perfectly clear.

Like her older cousin's almost-catchphrase, " _Bitch,_ do _not_ fuck with _me._ "

Emiri was abruptly brought out of her musings by the startled yelp—and squeal?—of a girl around her age if not her cousin's. She had tied back her straight, mahogany hair away from her face to lay down her back in a ponytail, which only showcased her burning, mortified expression.

She was undoubtedly a novice in the exasperating art of manager-ing. Her lack of skill marked her as a first-year. No prior experience in middle school and probably just a fan of the sport or of the team itself unless she was friends with someone on the team or another member of the managerial staff. But considering her flustered expression that was coupled with terrified scouting in every direction, she probably didn't know anybody.

Emi grinned, another fond memory being brought to the forefront of her mind, golden eyes twinkling with mirth that her friends and family hadn't seen in the past few months. She could remember the first time she was in similar shoes, though the older girl prided herself on not having been in a similar predicament.

(If only they were here now, Katsuki would've grinned maniacally and boasted to all about how he was _right_.)

The mahogany-haired girl quickly stood up, still cautious of her surroundings, hastily adjusted her footwear and scrambled to pick up the equipment she had dropped unceremoniously. Luckily for her, Emi, as far the second-year could tell, was the only one who noticed or even bothered to give any attention to her slip up.

' _Ah, to be scared of one's senpai... I haven't felt that in a_ while _.'_

Mainly because her and her peers were more than a handful of little shits and Teikō didn't really care for distinction between the years because; all that mattered was skill. And talent. But mainly the latter.

As the manager scampered away, Emi couldn't help but be reminded of her favourite _kohai_ —her bright hair and matching eyes blinding and shocking amongst more… _natural_ colouring but so full of life. It had been the only time she had ever bothered to mentor someone and it wasn't even in her chosen discipline of visual arts.

Her hands twitched at the thought of her field of choice. Emi stared at them, lips twisting in a decidedly annoyed frown.

She _hated_ being empty handed.

Smoothing her skirt down as she stood up, Emiri headed down the bleachers' steps. She had her school bag slung over her shoulder and hands buried in her blazer's pockets. Her cousin was doing jackshit at the moment and there wasn't anything extraordinary going on. Therefore, it was time to go home.

Emi had more important things to do than make her cousin feel uneasy. The mere fact that she had yet to approach him when she could and he was in the open—such as lunch time—was enough to put him on edge. So, for the moment, the vindictive girl was appeased if only for the slightest bit.

Oh, she would somehow find a way to exact her revenge on her little cousin for her over the top blood pressure she'd suffered the day before, but right now, she had to catch up on the stuff she'd been procrastinating on—

A booming voice froze her in her movements.

Gold irises locked onto the imposing and central figure on the field.

"No _fucking_ way," Emi hissed disbelievingly

Emiri quickly took in the head coach's appearance, her mind quickly analyzing and comparing the features she could make out from this distance and estimating height and age. The girl's mental calculations only served to jar her further, thoughts of sticking around to investigate beginning to float around in her head.

That couldn't be _him_ , could it? She highly doubted it, but _still_ …

(Espionage never really hurt anybody, right?)

Emi, nosy little shit she was, decided to stick around for just a tad more—even if she was wrong in her assumption, her continued appearance only served to elevate her cousin's anxiety.

So long as his mental health was mostly fine, Emiri could up the pressure the tiniest bit more, right?

— **[ + ] —**

" _Oi_ , Nori, look, it's Nakano—"

" _Shirasu_!"

The outfielder let out a breathless laugh at Nori's pained expression. The blushing second-year was trying valiantly not to look in the direction his friend had so blatantly pointed in.

As if he needed any more reason to be embarrassed around the dark-haired beauty.

Kuramochi didn't know _who_ this Nakano was, but if it was the girl that was strolling around the perimeter of the diamond, he could understand why the second-year pitcher was blushing like a fool.

" _Oi_ ,Kuramochi, keep both heads in the game."

"Shut it, _kusomegane_!" Kuramochi snapped, nearly biting the catcher's head off to which he ever so annoyingly laughed in response. The crimson that painted the shortstop's features only fueled the annoying as _fuck_ catcher's guffaws.

Miyuki _adored_ being the annoying, not-so-little, little shit of the team.

— **[ + ] —**

It _was_ him.

Emiri didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream. Maybe all three. But she was sure her facial muscles were going to be sore later on with how wide her shit-eating grin was at the moment.

This was absolutely _fucking_ hilarious and it would always be an inside joke to her because she was pretty fucking sure her cousin and his coach didn't quite realize their "connection"—so to speak—to each other.

"Holy _fucking_ balls," Emi hissed as she clutched her spasming abdomen, fruitlessly struggling for breath and to contain her laughter. "This is way _too_ fucking ironic. _Holy fucking shit_."

If she hadn't been reduced to her laughing fit, Emiri probably would've noticed the pairs of eyes that were a familiar shade of pink watching her bemusedly. And though the girl might have felt the eyes on her person, she was too consumed by laughter to care or investigate.

(Maybe this year wouldn't be so, so bad after all.)

— **[ + ] —**

" _Tadaima_ , _Kaa-san_!" Emiri called out habitually, slipping her shoes off and onto the shoe rack. She wiggled her toes against the inner seam of her socks, rolling her ankles in an effort to stretch her feet after wearing shoes all day. While they weren't exactly cramped, she was sure she was in the majority in her preference of having the freedom of—mostly—bare feet.

Cocking her ear, Emi listened to her mother's reply before continuing on with her plans of yet another project, which would, of course, lead to more procrastination on more "important" things.

" _Okaeri!"_

Content with the somewhat muffled cry from up the stairs, Emi took the steps two at a time and turned right once she reached the landing and again to peer into a room that was slightly smaller than the other bedrooms. Her mother had refurbished it sometime ago to be Emi's "Creative Space."

In other words, a place where she could art and be lazy all she wanted and ensured her room was solely for sleeping and school related work. It was filled with several storage towers with clear drawers that came up to Emi's shoulders. Her father had bought the specific model not only so she could see what was inside but also she wouldn't struggle with getting her materials.

Her mother was currently on her knees next to one of the myriad organizers she had for her materials. This specific organizer containing her thicker marker sets. Eiko was holding two identical markers in her hand. "Emi- _chan_ , what's the difference between this colour and this one?"

"Same _shade_ , except the one in your right is alcohol-based and the other is water-based," Emi explained near reflexively. "If you're going to write a note, I'd use the water-based one."

Eiko hummed appreciatively and nodded once, replacing the alcohol-based marker in—thankfully—the right drawer.

" _Kaa-san_?"

"Hm?"

"Where's my toddler photo album?"

Eiko blinked slowly. "I can get it for you, Emi- _chan_. What's the sudden interest?"

"I think Shin- _nii_ is Ei- _chan_ 's coach."

Her mother's reaction was almost the same as hers—Eiko's eyes had bugged out, the woman catching herself on her knees as she laughed loudly. "As in Miya- _chan_ 's—?"

"The very same."

Mother and daughter wore identical smiles filled with laughter.

(Eiko missed having her daughter around.)

* * *

 **I just needed a little push for this one, which came from a lovely friend on Quotev! Sorry for the wait, I was conflicted for a while on the events of this chapter. There will also be more Canon content starting next chapter if my muse sticks to it's schedule.**


	4. Chapter IV — Then There Are Some Downs

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form, own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, fanfiction.**

* * *

 **Chapter IV — Then There Are Some Downs**

* * *

 _Emotions tend to run wild._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Eijun was napping at his desk.

His classmates and teachers had long since grown to the enthusiastic pitcher's uncaring attitude towards his education. It was a feat all in itself that the coaching staff hadn't gotten wind of it—or rather, that they hadn't done anything about it yet. Arguably, Eijun was still an unofficial member so they couldn't really do anything and his running—and not much else—was already punishment enough anyways.

His weird—but begrudgingly endearing—snoring completely droned out the sound of the class door snapping open and the quiet, excited chatter when his classmates realized that an upperclassman was now present.

He didn't even wake up when some of his bolder classmates gave quick greetings, " _Senpai_!"

He fidgeted in his sleep when his upperclassman stood directly behind his chair, golden eye staring down at his hunched back, a sadistic gleam twinkling in those eyes.

Lips twitching at imaging what would undoubtedly happen; Emiri slammed her hands down on her cousin's shoulders roughly. Eijun immediately tensed, breathing disturbed, at the feeling before he shot up abruptly with his mouth opening to yell at the person who had just grabbed him—

' _Fuck_.'

Emi smiled down at him, her hands tucked against her sides as she crossed her arms.

His tanned skin immediately took on a chalky paleness that definitely wasn't healthy and he forgot to breathe—his mind had immediately short-circuited after he took in just who was behind him.

(He knew that this was knew this was coming...Eijun lamented over the fact he wouldn't live to become the ace.)

"Hi, little cousin," Emiri all but sneered still smiling, "I came to check up on you."

— **[ + ] —**

Emi hummed appreciatively at the feel of the sun's rays dancing along her skin. Her toes curled with her sigh of contentment as she leaned back further on her palms. The girl was in bliss, even if the cool, course texture of the roof nipped at her bare thighs.

Eijun, however, was not.

The boy was sweating bullets being in close proximity to his cousin but not daring to move further than the half metre she had left between them. His Emi- _nee_ was generally... _considerate_ but when you crossed her...

It was easier to fend off a fiery demon from Hell with the blunt end of a stick then it was to get into her good graces again.

It was a weird, contradictory combination of traits—considerate but aggressive and short-tempered—but was undeniably Nakano Emiri.

(In other words, Eijun loved his cousin but she was scary as _fuck._ )

"Did you eat yet?"

The pitcher blinked at the sudden question. Emi had unceremoniously dragged him out by his collar and up the stairs before he could even open his mouth to scream for help. Eijun had wanted to struggle, to ask if they were even allowed up on the roof but he held his tongue. Anxious silence was better than any tongue lashing she would give him. He had quickly followed her silent command of sit down when she yanked at his collar but hadn't even breathed in fear of incurring her wrath further.

" _Oi._ I'm supposed to be the deaf one here, not you."

Eijun quickly shook his head no, the bones in his neck rattling around with the sharp, jerky movements.

Emiri levelled narrowed eyes at him, gold eyes glinting with the promise of pain. The girl straightened her back, sitting up with perfect posture and uncrossed her reclining legs. Her shoulders rolled back and she lifted her hand.

Eijun shoulders tensed up, chin tucked tightly against his chest and he clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, screwed shut, and he quietly thanked his grandfather for helping to build up his pain tolerance.

' _This is going to hurt isn't it?'_

Emi's hand came down roughly on his head and the pats she gave him had more power than what was considered affectionate but otherwise? They were nice.

Eijun opened his hopeful eyes, wide just like a baby's—

"You're lucky I love you. But don't worry. I have a demon in my back pocket who'll take good care of you whenever I want."

Still smiling, Emiri offered him an _anpan_ and patted his shoulder forcefully.

"You're looking a little _too_ thin, cousin. You need to eat _much_ more."

She pitied him the tiniest bit from all the running he was doing but like the faithful moron he was, he'd end up eating a little too much each time and not understand why his stomach was up in his throat.

— **[ + ] —**

It figured that one of the most important games before the actual summer tournament didn't exist to Eijun.

And even if it did, it was _totally_ in that idiot's nature to ignore it in favour of his "selfish" desires. _Ugh_.

See, her moronic younger cousin _was_ a _yakyū-baka_ , that was no mistake, but at the same time, he _really_ wasn't. Emi really wanted to call him a fake player but then again, he probably wasn't alone in being a player of sport and solely a player. Some athletes really just couldn't stand watching someone else play "their" game but Eijun's case was… _slightly_ different in his case.

All he really knew was how to pitch—sort of?—the names of the positions as well as a vague idea of what each position entitled and… and that was about it.

Emiri was pretty sure he hadn't actually watched a baseball game in his _life_. Let alone his so-called career.

Hence, she wasn't very surprised—or surprised at all—when she found out that Seidō was facing their long-time rival, Ichidaisan, from overhearing Kawakami and his blond friend, Shirasu, if her memory served her well, talking about it.

 _Athletes_.

They could say they hated the sport more than anything and yet they would always find some way to incorporate it into their lives outside of the court or field.

"You guys have a game this weekend?" Emi interrupted her classmates while turning to face them. She lifted a hand apologetically when they turned to face her.

She couldn't help but smile at the tinge of red that was already present on Kawakami's cheeks. The outfielder discreetly nudged his friend—Emi catching a murmured, "Now, your chance, Nori!"—but to no avail. It seemed the pitcher was still a little ruffled from their previous interaction a few days ago.

This, Emiri would admit, was hella cute.

Shirasu sighed, breaking the awkward silence that had settled. "Yeah, we have a game against Ichidaisan—they're long-time rivals of Seidō—next week if we win the game this Sunday. We're especially fired up for this match since we lost to them in the fall tournament."

Emi hummed in understanding, drumming manicured nails against her cheekbone. "Finals?"

"Semifinals." Shirasu corrected, though a slight bitterness was present, remembering just exactly how the Fall Tournament's semifinals played out.

"Sugoi"—she lacked the enthusiasm that fangirls had—"so you guys are in the first string, right? I'm assuming so because you speak like it."

Both boys blinks then turned to face each other simultaneously, confusion written all over their faces.

What did she mean by "speak like it"?

Emi rolled her eyes at their disgruntled expression and turned away. It was obvious to her that they were in the first string—though if they were starters or not was something she had yet to determine—in the way they spoke of the games. Emiri sighed pensively, wondering if she should go to the game or not. Revenge Games were always fun to watch—players were so incredibly vindictive and childish when it came to actual matches.

Her friends were a testament to that, considering how the other Emi's favourite quote was, "You screw with me, I screw you back—'cause I'm a _lady_ like that."

Revenge Games were also amazing matches which particularly showcased a team's abilities and play style. After all, what could get players more hyped up then handing the ass of their rivals to them on a silver platter after losing to them previously?

Come to think of it, Eijun should watch the game so he could actually learn what Seidō was really like. Because, y'know, he probably didn't learn much about his teammates since he was still running his ass off during practice. Why the idiot didn't prostrate himself to the coach already wasn't a question she wanted answered.

(The moron probably summoned her sass when he tried—his timing was _always_ horrible.)

Emi had forced her tongue to still when she thought to comment such, but she noticed that the first-string members spoke of the _possible_ match against Ichidai as if they believed that the upcoming match they had would play out perfectly in their favour.

(...She had missed talking about matches like that—knowing you would absolutely win.)

— **[ + ] —**

Sticking to their now routine schedule, Emi pranced down to the first years' floor to pick up her cousin. And, like the norm, she wacked his sleeping head to wake him up and then proceeded to drag his half-asleep body out the door and then haul him up the stairs like a sack of apples.

Eijun looked skinny—he certainly was lean—but he was mostly composed of toned muscle which was dense as _fuck_ and made him hard to carry. Not that him being half asleep helped any—it only made it harder for her because it was like manipulating a life-sized doll that was both taller and heavier than her.

" _Wake the fuck up!"_ Emi snapped, " _Move_ _your ass_!"

Her cousin grumbled, breathes coming out in half—if that was possible—snore as he trudged up the steps, Emi pushing at his back.

Emiri muttered obscenities all the way up.

Finally— _Finally_ , they got up the stairs and managed to sit down.

(And her father accused her of lazing around. The _ass_.)

Emiri chucked an _melonpan_ at Eijun's head—which he fumbled to catch—while she unwrapped and began to tear small, nibble sized pieces off of hers.

"So," Emi paused to swallow, "did you know your team has a match coming up on Sunday?"

"S'not like Shades woulda lemme go," Eijun mumbled sullenly, slurred from drowsiness.

Emiri choked at the nickname—still not accustomed to it—and instead shook her head, an amused smile brightening her features. "You do realize that all members are expected to show up? To show Team Spirit?"

The moron only chewed more furiously and looked away.

"Do you even know who it's up against?"

...His silence spoke more than words.

Emi hadn't even confronted him the Friday she had learned of the possible match. It was now Monday, the match now confirmed, and the idiot still didn't know about it. In fact, Eijun hadn't talked much about the team. Of course, this wasn't his entire fault—Emi preferred to eat in silence and any lunch time chatter was usually provided by her company. But, taking into full consideration Eijun's poor habits and status of being an unofficial member, she wasn't surprised he didn't know anything. At all.

As frustrating as his ignorance was, Emiri really shouldn't have expected anything else.

It also didn't help he didn't have any friends and the only people he was sort-of familiar with—his dorm mates—were in different years. Emi could thrive on her lonesome with one or two acquaintances if she wanted as her friends would come to terrorize her whenever they felt like it, her cousin was a ray of sunshine that thrived on some kind of attention.

Emi sighed, pulling his head down onto her shoulder, rubbing his head comfortingly.

They stayed like that for a while.

"Don't fall asleep, moron, okay? We still have class."

Eijun mumbled something into the fabric of her blazer.

Wait.

Was he... Was he _purring_?

" _Oi_ , Eijun."

Emi jerked her shoulder up against the deadweight.

"Since when the fuck did I start looking like a thrice-damned pillow to you, you fuckstick?"

— **[ + ] —**

Kuramochi cruised down the hallway; most of the lounging second years having meandered their ways back to their respective classes and thus emptied out the hallway as lunch would be over soon. While the shortstop had blitzed from the classroom to get away from the starting catcher, he had actually needed to piss. Afterwards, he took his sweet ass time because he had the entire afternoon left with Miyuki and practice to boot.

He shook his head, irritation bubbling in his chest.

And then after putting up with all that, he had to put with _Sawamura_ —who was still in the coach's bad graces and probably would be for the rest of the year, at _least_.

The shortstop rolled his shoulders back in a quick stretch as he slid his hands into his pockets. A pleased groan slipped past his lips as he popped something—he had taken a bit of a tumble in yesterday's match, leaving a bit of a kink in his shoulder.

It wouldn't do him any good if it stayed, especially with the match against Ichidai coming up—

"I told you _not_ to fucking sleep!"

Kuramochi jolted at the abrasive complaint, not knowing whether to compliment or complain to the girl—if he judged the pitch of that voice right—with an impressive set of lungs—

She was with Sawamura.

 _Sawamura_.

As in, _Sawamura_ , his idiot dormmate and unofficial teammate.

The absolute moron, _Bakamura_.

And she...

She certainly did _not_ belong with _him_ of all people.

(And did she look just the tiniest bit familiar?)

But... But she was clutching his hand?!

Kuramochi darted to the wall, pressing his back flat against it as the girl blitzed through, tugging Sawamura behind her. While she was decidedly annoyed with his _kohai_ , she was perfectly comfortable and seemed to disregard anyone but the pitcher she was currently attached to.

"Eijun,"—she even used his first name!— "you need to listen better!"

Kuramochi couldn't comprehend what the idiot said in response but the girl just rolled her eyes and her words _dripped_ with affection as she replied.

...He was pretty sure he was going into shock.

So, he pinched his arm. _Hard_.

Nope.

But then—did that mean?!

The bell rang and Kuramochi just numbly walked into his classroom, ignoring the teacher's not so subtle biting remark on his "tardiness."

 _Bakamura had a girlfriend_.

(And he didn't.)

— **[ + ] —**

"I'm going to _motherfucking_ butcher him."

Because even after she told him about it on Monday, reminded him all throughout the weak, and got him to agree with her about the importance of attending such games, her asshat of a younger cousin was absent!

Fucking. _Absent_.

' _Bitch_.' "I was _late_ to class for you too!" Emi seethed, and probably scaring everyone within a ten metre radius of her.

She knew that idiot wasn't playing so she'd be stupid to check the roster and she had wandered up and down the aisles probably half a dozen times by now—looking like a total dumbass to boot—just to check if he was there.

And Eijun wasn't. He was absolutely not here—not at the Seidō vs. Ichidaisan match she had painstakingly convinced him to go to. And yet again, he had wasted _her_ time and effort, and to top it all off, she looked like a total _dumbfuck_ as she searched for him over and over through Seidō's bleachers. They probably thought she was insane, and she wouldn't blame them.

(She would blame Eijun.)

In her defense, the doofus didn't even have an excuse not to be here since it was _Saturday_!

" _Ano_ ," a polite voice interrupted her fuming, "are you looking for a seat?"

Emi turned to look at that boy with bright, bubblegum pink hair and soft, polite smile gracing his features—or rather, what could be seen of his features as a curtain of his vibrant hair shielded the upper half of his face away from the world. He was wearing the baby blue Seidō shirts that rest of the team wore and had shuffled away from his seat some, gesturing to it with one hand while the other was rubbing sheepishly at his cheek.

Emiri had one thought about him.

"You're cute."

The boy blushed darker than his hair and Emi smiled at him genuinely, some of her irritation evaporating at his sheer adorableness.

" _A-Ano_...?"

Emi waved away his concern. There was no point in being here if her ingrate of a cousin wasn't present as well. "I'm fine—thanks. I'll be leaving."

Not bothering to wait for his reply, Emi jogged up the steps, the crowd roaring as a metallic clang sounded and the sound of metal stretching and groaning—not unlike bed springs. Someone had probably scored a home run. Not that she particularly cared at the moment.

(This atmosphere didn't need her negativity to drag them down.)

Still, Emi stopped at the top of the stairs, exhaling deeply, and just... took in the sight—the feel—of it all.

" _Ne_! _You_ —yes, _you,_ with the black hair!"

...Could this dunce's description be any more apt?

(They were in Japan, for God's sake.)

Stiffly, Emiri turned and didn't bother to hide her irritation in the form of crinkled brows and the beginnings of a frown. Her blank stare quickly turned into a glare when she saw the camera slung over his shoulder and the badge pinned to his pressed, short sleeve button down shirt.

She recognized that badge very well.

"Ah, _hai_?" She would at least be polite.

"Do you perhaps play basketball?"

 _Fuck._

All niceties were officially going out the window.

"No," Emi's answer was too short, too harsh. Her overall expression was one of disdain and impatience yet the reporter was undaunted. "You have the wrong person."

"Do you perhaps manage a team?"

 _I did_. "No."

The reporter didn't seem at all satisfied by her answers if the frown he wore was any sort of tell. Emiri subtly bit her lip, crossing her right arm over her chest to grab at her left elbow while readjusting her stance so that he right foot was, on closer inspection, further back then her left.

If she had to, she would punch this fucker in the throat and _scream_ bloody murder if he did not get the blatant hint that she was done.

The socially uneducated fucker had the gall to open his big mouth again—

" _Senpai_?"

Emi turned sharply to look at the boy with the bright colouring from earlier. His fingers were noticeably clenched around the cone, nervous energy causing his shoulders and limbs to twitch minutely. His lips were pressed tightly together and while he tried to keep his free hand flat, his fingers were curling up in a loose fist.

He was ready to get involved if need be but he obviously wasn't experienced and really didn't want to.

Emiri's heart fluttered at the sweetness of his actions—especially since he was completely uncomfortable doing so.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to sit down? You'll miss the game."

" _Un_. I'm coming," Emi smiled genuinely at him, tapping his wrist lightly as she passed him as a sign of thanks.

He followed a second later, walking directly behind her. Emiri turned back slightly and grinned at the sight of the reporter's annoyed expression. Emi stood a step above from the pink-haired boy's spot and when he gestured for to sit, waved him off again.

He seemed perturbed by her continued denial.

He really was adorable.

"Thank you," Emi said softly, almost drowned out by the crowd's chatter.

He replied with a kind smile and then gestured to the seat opposite of his across the steps. "You should stay. Just to be safe."

"How thoughtful of you."

(Emi decided that this boy would be her favourite for the year; she would need to hunt him down later.)

— **[ + ] —**

When Eijun looked at his phone later that evening, his inbox was filled with messages—all from his older cousin.

[ From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: DIE]

 _I'm going to fucking kill you_.

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: 1000X]

 _Gut you like the uncultured swine you are._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: 1000000X]

 _I'll start with your intestines._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: BITCH]

 _Then a kidney._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: FUCKFACE]

 _Your spleen._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: DICKCHEESE]

 _I'll take a lung too._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: I really wanna kill you.]

 _Feed you adrenaline so you stay awake the entire time._

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: A little.]

 _Sell your shitty ass organs on the black market. And then_

[From: Emi-nee]

[Subject: K. Maybe a lot.]

 _Then I'll bury you alive. Dig you up. And repeat_.

[From Emi-nee]

[Subject: JII-CHAN WILL HELP ME]

 _I WILL MAKE TIME IN MY SCHEDULE TO FUCK YOU UP YOU BEST BELIEVE_

...And those were the less graphic ones.

(Per usual, when Emi got inspired—and in this case, with murder and torture—was in bursts, so the spammed messages came in assorted clumps of timestamps.)

Eijun nervously typed a response and then hit send.

[To: Emi-nee]

[Subject: I love you]

 _Please don't kill me?_

[To: Emi-nee]

[Subject: Please]

 _I have a game tomorrow that I really really really really 1000x need to live_ _for_

— **[ + ] —**

"THAT COCKSUCKER!"

Both husband and wife jolted at their only child's sudden scream of fury and ensuing screams of frustration, drawn away from their well-deserved game of Mario Kart. The Nakano patriarch and matriarch could clearly hear her stomping around in her room and profusely cursing.

"She gets that from you, Eiko."

"Fuck you, Katsuki," Eiko snapped back out of habit. "Emi- _chan_?"

Emi screeched with unbridled rage.

"See what's wrong with your child, Katsuki."

"You carried that _thing_ for nine months, Eiko; she's more yours than mine."

"But would I have a child without you? It's a team effort~!"

Nakano Katsuki slid off the coach defeated and cautiously trudged up the stairs, and wincing every time a step made a sound. He turned and shot his wife a dirty to look. Eiko had the absolute gall to reply by beaming at him and holding two thumbs up.

"Emi- _chan_?" He knocked—more like tapped—quietly on her door thrice in quick succession.

"I'M GONNA RIP HIS HEAD OFF!"

 _Ah_.

Eijun had royally pissed her off.

(Katsuki was begrudgingly impressed by his nephew—not even Shōichi could get a rise like that out of his usually passive aggressive daughter.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emi had brought seven cupcakes from her mother's quaint bakery to Seidō. Six were for that adorable boy that had just been so sweet. One was filled with _natto_ and would be given to her unsuspecting cousin. Eijun would have probably forgotten she was mad at him for his stupidity and discourteous actions the day before to focus on this _incredibly_ important match. A match _so_ important, he willingly pissed her off royally within less than two weeks.

(The sane would have waited two years at the least for safety reasons.)

Emi hoped he would choke on the cupcake.

She could see it play out perfectly.

So excited at finally being able to play and have a sweet treat, Eijun would jam it into his mouth whole. He would chew happily and naïvely and then his face would slowly melt into horror as he would bite into the hollowed core that she'd packed full of _natto_.

But by the time he would notice, he'd already be swallowing.

Then Eijun would valiantly try to spit it out, hands wrapped around his throat and eye bugging out in panic.

"Emi _-nee_!" He would call weakly as he fell to his knees, face turning blue.

And then—and only then—would he feel the same betrayal she felt when he left her on her lonesome the day before.

Then Emiri would scamper off with the happiest smile on her face to thank that lovely pink-haired boy properly with a sweet treat.

— **[ + ] —**

…Emi had to hand it to the first-year pitcher; it _did_ take a special sort of talent to lose twelve runs in the first inning alone.

Emiri didn't quite understand baseball, having vague memories of it from her early childhood years in large part due to her babysitter, and had done a skim review by reading some articles online.

Nine innings. Top and Bottom. Three Outs. Change. Nine Players.

She had the basics down and had a somewhat clear understanding of what was going on but Emi was mostly going off both the score and the atmosphere generated by the people to truly understand the game. Considering the lacklustre expressions of the first-years, they were actually trying. The scowls of her peers and _senpai_ were downright bloodthirsty in comparison.

This made the score all the more depressing.

Those twelve runs meant that every single upperclassman that had been up to bat had landed a hit and—considering the build on some of the players—there were probably a few home runs hits too.

Emi pitied the caramel haired pitcher but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel that he had brought this on himself.

Sports were cruel; didn't anyone ever teach him that?

Emiri turned a frown on her face, to look at Coach Kataoka, who was serving as the umpire of the scrimmage. It was bit jarring for her to see him with the darkly tinted sunglasses and the facial hair, but his normal glowering expression was still constant at the least. The girl wondered what he was thinking.

Maybe he intended to teach the first-years some kind of humbleness?

(In that case, surely the first-years had her cousin to blame for that.)

Either way, this scrimmage would serve as a lesson to the newly minted members and would allow him to grasp both their physical abilities and skills as players.

The question was, what exactly was he looking for?

Emiri shook her head free from her musings. There was no use in predicting what the stone-faced coach was thinking most days—let alone when he was in one of his moods.

Now… Where was her _precious_ little cousin?

The easiest answer to that question was to follow her ears as best she could.

(Even if her hearing wasn't the best.)

She could hear his overly enthusiastic yells over the thunderous clangs and disappointed yet energetic murmuring of the crowd gathered. There was no real surprise there, seeing as the idiot was known for having the biggest mouth amongst all four cousins. However, Emiri could hear another voice just over the clamour due to her proximity.

His—if her judgement of the sound of the voice and setting of the place was right—voice was honeyed, a tone she was quite accustomed to.

The speaker would generally have a pleasant if not slightly provocative face, their tone smooth and oratory impressive but there was a sharpness that lay hidden that set them apart. Someone wouldn't really feel completely comfortable in a conversation with them. From Emi's personal experience, people who had honeyed voices tended to throw in subtle barbs every so often which would quickly turn into tongue flaying—not to mention that they were completely unapologetic about their comments.

The epitome of an _asshole_.

Emiri couldn't help but grin at the irony.

Eijun _hated_ Shōichi, who had a honeyed voice himself.

Well, not hate per say, but Eijun detested being left alone with him for longer than five minutes. This was, of course, the bespectacled point guard's fault as he adored teasing the ever loving fuck out of her cousins since they were so easy to rile up. Shōichi had made Eijun cry from anger, embarrassment and fear all at once more than two dozen times by now.

And yet, Eijun was willingly putting himself in the presence of someone who she could tell from the voice alone was somewhat like her… _ex_ -boyfriend.

( _God_ , did calling him that _hurt_.)

The rhythmic sound of her feet meeting the pavement stopped as Emi came face to face with the little section of the field that was fenced off from the rest of the diamond. There was stretch off space between her cousin and his apparent teammate, the uniform an obvious tell, with the end her cousin stood on having a higher elevation.

Both players had their gloves on, probably warming up, but the bespectacled stranger—yet another similarity between Shōichi and this person—was speaking to her cousin about something she didn't quite catch.

" _Oi_ , Eijun."

Both baseball players turned, Eijun more sharply and alert then his partner who simply raised a questioning brow.

" _Oh_! Emi!" He called, all smiles, and waving madly. The grin on his face made her want to smack the living shit out of him. "You're here!"

Emiri clicked her tongue, one hand resting on her jutted hip as the other kept the box of sweets parallel to the ground. "What are you doing, you moron?"

She completely disregarded how the unknown player was watching their exchange with interest, a smile building up on his face. He probably thought she was _tsundere_ based on how she was treating her air head of a cousin.

(Again, Emi was reminded of Shōichi.)

"What?! I'm warming up, isn't that obvious?!"

' _Bitch_.' When did her cousin find the balls to get this attitude with her?

Her eyes flickered to the bespectacled stranger.

Was he trying to put up a front?

…No. _No_. The idiot was too dumb for that.

"I can see that you're warming up but you're not watching the actual scrimmage itself…" Emi trailed off, hoping her would get at her point. "You're totally missing an open demonstration of your opponents' abilities and tactics…?"

Eijun looked at her blankly.

While his teammate… His teammate just laughed and laughed and _laughed_.

He looked at her with warm caramel eyes and grinned a real _shitty_ grin.

"You're _fun_ ," he managed through his laughter. "Miyuki Kazuya."

Emi dipped her head in a bow. "Nakano Emiri."

Miyuki glanced between her cousin and her, an amused smile on his face while Eijun gaped at the both of them while making incoherent sounds.

"Well," Miyuki looked at her cousin, the smile never leaving his face. "Aren't you going to listen to her, Sawamura?"

Eijun fumed at his teammate, his attempt at a glare becoming so vicious he went cat-eyed. "Shut it, Miyuki Kazuya!"

Emiri rolled her eyes. If she could teleport through the fencing and smack him, she _would_. "Hurry up and go to whatever the loving fuck you call your bench and learn something."

"Dugout."

"What he said."

Eijun squawked, attempting to protest, but at Emiri's glare, immediately quelled and followed her orders. Though he dragged his feet the entire way and probably muttered some choice words about the both of them.

Emiri could feel Miyuki's eyes on her but didn't say anything despite his open staring.

' _Men.'_

— **[ + ] —**

The pace or mood of the game hadn't changed at all in the brief interlude she had with her cousin and Miyuki Kazuya.

(Emi briefly wondered what would happen if her cousin encountered Shōichi now.)

The _senpai_ were still mopping the proverbial floor with their underclassmen with what the girl would call sadistic glee. It really was miraculous that the first-years were managing to find the outs they needed but most of these were off of large mistakes the upperclassmen had pulled.

Both sides were completely desperate for completely different reasons.

Either way, the outcome of the game was obvious to the artist.

The greenhorns would be absolutely decimated by their older teammates and there was very little they could do to stop that. They could barely get the outs let alone score. They were physically and mentally weaker and their teamwork was, in a succinct word, crap.

"Pitcher change!"

The crowd mumbled and Emi wondered if the coach had decided to take pity on the caramel haired pitcher or was simply tired of his substandard performance thus far. The boy replacing the retired pitcher was much taller than him, hair and eyes dark and skin even paler than hers. His frame wasn't exactly wiry but she wouldn't call lanky but he wasn't exactly lean or wiry either.

She would commend him for impeccably cool face in the presence of his _senpai_ who seemed to be even more fired up than before.

…There was a backstory there and Emiri's nosey ass wanted to know.

(She would find out eventually—probably with a lot of violent prodding at her cousin.)

The upperclassmen weren't the only ones in a bad mood at the sight of this "Furuya Satoru." Her cousin was loudly complaining from left field with his peeved expression and horrible attitude bringing down the entire outfield.

' _Good_ ,' Emi thought smugly, ' _he deserves to be let down.'_

The audience around her continued to gossip about the coach's decision but the general consensus was that they were all _bloody bored out of their minds_ —

Emiri wasn't the only one who stood up when the pitch rose unexpectedly and _slammed_ into Kataoka's faceguard unforgivingly all while maintaining a velocity almost too fast to keep up with.

"Eijun is _so_ screwed."

How the _fuck_ was Eijun going to compete with that _kaibustu_?

(Goddammit, she was going to have to trash the _natto_ cupcake now, wasn't she?)

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I only got this chapter done so fast because I was excited about Emi meeting more Canon!Characters.**


	5. Chapter V — The One Where They Bitch

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, fanfiction.**

* * *

 **Chapter V — The One Where They Bitch**

* * *

 _Some things are genetic._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Emi didn't have the heart to give Eijun the _natto_ cupcake after the "moving" struggle he went through. She was more than impressed that he managed to get a run—never mind the fact that that adorable pink-haired boy had to drag him through the motions of doing so.

The scoreboard didn't look that pathetic when the first-years lost twenty-one to one.

...Kind of.

(Okay, it was really, really, really, _really_ pathetic, but compared to twenty-one and nil?)

Still, the idiot had developed a sort of complex over the fact that now, not only was he an official member and pitcher, he was now on the second string—with that lovely Kominato Haruichi that she'd become so fond of in just two days.

That boy was just _too_ cute for words.

It certainly was worth it, giving him the half dozen cupcakes while Eijun received none. Her cousin had almost— _almost—_ pitched a fit but Emi had given him the dressing down he deserved.

Emiri probably bitched at him for a good half an hour before she finally simmered down some.

But if she were a bitch, Karma was _the_ bitch, because Eijun was now bitching to her about his new "trainer" of sorts.

"I hate him!"—Eijun has said that maybe fifty times by now— "He's so... so—UGH! What kind of—He doesn't even stay for the full practice!"

Emi rolled her eyes at his complaints. "First of all, you came _late_ on your _first day_ and had the audacity to _talk back_ to your coach."

"But Emi- _nee—_!"

"Do _not_ interrupt me when I'm bitching at you," Emi swatted a hand at him, lips and brows pinched in annoyance. "Second of all, you didn't have the common decency to apologize to your coach or me or your _senpais_. Third of all, I literally gave you an opportunity to come and see _your_ team—not _my_ team—to play and what did you do?"

...Eijun was choosing _now_ to be silent?

" _What the fuck did you do_?" Emi prodded dangerously, bringing her face dangerously close to her cousin's. " _Hm_?"

Eijun gulped nervously. "I... I didn't... _go_?"

"Are you asking me or are you telling me."

"Tell—Telling you?"

" _Bitch_."

"Telling you!"

Emi lifted her chin haughtily and narrowed her eyes. "You're right for once... You didn't go when I told you to go. Do you know anything about your team? About jackshit. Do you know anything about baseball? Again, about jackshit. And look what's happening to you now."

Eijun had curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth as Emi continued her sermon. With every sentence, he flinched as if something was stabbing him. The pitcher's expression curdled and he tucked his hand tighter against his chest and knees and Emi gave him a look that was both condescending and disappointed all wrapped together neatly in a deadly combination.

"...I'm being trained by an asshole?"

"No, _you're_ the asshole," Emi corrected viciously. "You're practically a beginner but you have the ego of a champion."

 _That_ hurt.

And to make matters worse, Emiri started looking around, slipping a hand over her eyes as if looking at something in the distance as well as moving around as if she'd dropped something and was looking for it.

"Where is your logic, Eijun? Hm? Or did you even have any to begin with?"

Eijun sniffled pathetically. "Emi- _nee_..."

"Don't."

Tears began to collect at the corner of his eyes, the warm brown irises becoming misty.

"Eijun... _Don't_."

He _sobbed_. "Emi- _nee_..."

"Eijun, please don't cry..." Emiri was immediately at his side, lightly rubbing his back and ruffling his hair affectionately but hurriedly. "Come on... I wasn't _that_ mean. If you want me to be mean, I can call Shōichi and tell him how you've messed up..."

Eijun blew his nose into the sleeve of her blazer and the girl recoiled as she cursed. "Emi- _nee_ that's so mean!"

"Shut up! How _dare_ you use me as a _tissue_?!" She screeched, yanking her blazer off in disgust and throwing it at his head.

Eijun barely had time to blink away his tears as Emi lunged for his throat and pinned him to the rooftop, wrapping her dainty hands around his neck.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"Eh—Em—Emi- _neeeee—_!"

 **— [ + ] —**

Kuramochi heard a thud and upped his pace up the steps leading to the roof. Contrary to popular belief—largely due to anime and manga—not everyone lounged about on the rooftop. The shortstop did it occasionally—specifically when he needed as much space from Miyuki as possible.

He knew someone or some people were there already but the sounds of violence didn't deter him as it would ordinary people.

If anything, he was doing the saintly duty of going up there and kicking the bully's ass five ways to Sunday—

" _What_."

The shortstop froze, his surprise coming out in a hiss and choking.

Sawamura was on his back, unruly hair visible from Kuramochi's angle at the half-slammed open door, arms clenched tightly at his sides. His expression wasn't something Kuramochi could directly described, features twisted by something.

Or rather someone.

The girl he'd seen traversing around the hallway with the idiot pitcher in tow was _straddling_ said pitcher, bottom firmly planted on his abs while both her hands were wrapped around his _kohai'_ s neck.

Over the roar of blood in his ears, Kuramochi could make out her words, dipped in sweetness, and his brain just _shut down_.

"I hope you're ready for what's next."

 _Nope_.

Kuramochi was fast, but he didn't think moved faster on the field than he did snapping the rooftop door shut and flying down the stairs, almost crashing face first, and down the hallway. He didn't let up on his dead sprint until he was back down on the second-years' floors and then his legs just gave up.

Screw jelly, the shortstop wasn't even sure if his legs were remotely solid after witnessing _that_.

He didn't feel ashamed all to sink down to the floor.

"Kinky bastard."

(He was _never_ ever, _ever_ bringing up what he saw to Sawamura.)

Kuramochi paused as he remembered something.

Wasn't Sawamura texting a Wakana?!

What the—Did that mean he was cheating on that total _babe_ on the rooftop?

Or was he two-timing Wakana with her?

Kuramochi buried his face into his hands in exasperation. Of all the people to be two-timing, he would have never expected it to be Sawamura based on the boy's pure idiocy. And yet...

He shook his head to clear it.

Sawamura's business wasn't his business.

(But he would totally snitch when he got the chance—you don't treat women like that. _Ever._ )

 **— [ + ] —**

Emiri had just managed to hide away her "tissue-blazer" and slip into class before lunch had ended. The scowl that the girl was currently wearing was beginning to become a common sight which was yet another thing that irked her.

Just as she began to feel for Eijun—think that she could bear the year—the idiot managed to fuck it up.

She'd lost count and April wasn't even over yet.

" _Ugh_ ," Emi groaned, flinching just before she sat down. The feeling of him sneezing into her blazer was downright disgusting and was haunting her. Never mind the entire ensemble of the uniform having multiple layers, it felt like Eijun was blowing a wet sneeze directly into the flesh of her arm.

Sticky snot and all, clinging to her skin stubbornly and leaving a cold, wet, sticky feeling not unlike touching a fish but _stickier_ and _thicker_.

Emiri couldn't imagine how the sneeze would've felt like if he had actually sneezed directly into her arm—her bare skinned arm.

...The thought of such a thing made the girl shudder in both disgust and fear.

"Nakano- _san_?"

Emi waved off his concern. "I'm fine, Kawakami."

The girl offered a polite smile to her classmate and was deeply bemused at the red that lingered along the edges of his face and ears. That blush was so endearing—the epitome of adorable.

Wait.

Emiri wasn't exactly sure if she found Kawakami's flushed face more adorable or the smiling face of the ever-endearing Kominato Haruichi.

The girl tilted her head to the side, robotically climbing into her chair all while keeping her eyes on the pitcher's face that was steadily darkening to scarlet as she continued her open examination of his features. Shirasu's quiet snickering and encouragements in the background weren't helping the pitcher's colour either.

Who was cuter? Kawakami or Kominato?

Emi's bottom lip rolled into a pout as she continued to contemplate.

Kawakami had performed well when he was pitching in the scrimmage the day before though she could tell there was some hesitance and self-consciousness in his movements. The pitcher wasn't unsure of what to do... More like a tad hesitant. As if he was wondering if he should follow through with his actions.

It certainly had been a little jarring to Emi, seeing as most of the athletes she'd come in contact with—save a few, all of which she could on one hand—were utterly full of themselves. Sure, they thought of the team, but she found that athletes tended to be more self-seeking more than anything.

Still, she had found herself unexpectedly impressed by her classmate.

And the smile he wore when Kataoka said he'd be joining the first string was utterly adorable.

Kominato on the other hand...

Emiri certainly was fond of him for "gently" forcing himself between the reporter and her during the Seidō vs. Ichidai match. He hadn't known her at all and his chivalry was to die for. It wasn't the first time Emi had had someone step in for her, seeing how small she was, but it was the first time someone she didn't know had willingly dipped their hand into the proverbial shark tank for her.

It was so, _so_ sweet.

(If it was Emi—as in Shirokuro Emiko—that girl would've said it was common decency to help a lending hand but this was Nakano Emiri and she liked her gentlemen.)

Not to mention Kominato's appearance was also just as if not more endearing than his demeanor.

Or maybe she was feeling bias because of her former _kohai'_ s similar tresses.

Still, Kominato's reaction to her giving him those cupcakes was so adorable.

* * *

 **…**

* * *

" _So you_ can _play baseball," Emi jeered at her younger cousin, tone biting and amused all at once. Her pose didn't help either, one hand sassily resting on her jutted hip and the boxed desserts in the other._

 _Her gold eyes shone with amusement as her cousin just stared at her before bellowing her name for the world to hear._

 _Having been amused by his plays—could she really call them that—Emi didn't snap at him at once to shut up. She would let him have his victory. After all, she would have never expected him to make it into the second string, let alone reign in the ire of his coach to let him play._

" _Congratulations, Eijun."_

 _Eijun laughed his stupidly loud laugh, his guffaws just dripping with perceived superiority._ Wrongly _perceived superiority. "It's only to be expected from_ me _after all!"_

" _Shut_ up _," Emi rolled her eyes, strutting forward to push at his shoulder lightly. "You just got a home run hit off of you, you dork."_

 _Eijun froze, his confident stance drooping at her reminder._

" _Emi!" he yowled, not unlike a cat that had its tail stepped on. His face was red with embarrassment as he trembled in mortification. His cousin just_ had _to point out that teensy fact! She couldn't let him have anything, could she?_

" _And, since we're on the topic of the match"—Emi jabbed a finger over to the pink haired boy who had stopped and was watching them with a bemused smile— "you only got that run because he_ told _you to run_ and _because he_ actually _hit the ball. Where was_ your _hit? Hm?"_

 _Eijun blanched, allowing Emiri to push him aside like wet cardboard and meet the pink-haired boy from the day before. His relaxed form had straightened with something akin to curiosity as Emi had meandered her way over to him._

 _Pasting a smile on her face, Emi extended the plain, white box towards the boy._

" _Eh? Fo—For me?"_

 _Gosh_ , _even his stutter was positively endearing!_

" _It's a thank you for what you did yesterday," Emi explained patiently, coaxing the boy to take the box from her. He did so hesitantly but his grip was sure and he smile was polite if not flustered._

 _Alas, the sweet moment was doomed to be broken by a hideous creature straight from Emiri's worst nightmares._

"What?!" _Eijun forced himself between them, irking Emi as the boy had almost dropped her gift. "_ He _gets a gift?! What about_ me _Emi-_ nee _! And what happened yesterday?!"_

 _Not being able to help it, Emi slammed her hand down onto her cousin's head, his face almost meeting dirt with the force she used. Eijun fought against her iron grip to glare indignantly at her but Emi just grit her teeth and glared back harder._

 _She was, as Shōichi once told her, the type of person that when annoyed would reciprocate with even greater fury._

 _That is, if you_ clapped _at her, she would_ clapback _harder._

 _(Now, the other Emi... To use a slang term her American-raised girl used, that girl was_ shady— _as in the type not to just throw shade but throw the whole damn umbrella.)_

" _He gets a gift for what he did yesterday and you would know what happened yesterday if you actually bother to show up, you good for nothing, balls for brain, absolute dumbshit!" Emi shoved his head into the dirt roughly and dusted off her clothes. "Moreover, you're being_ rude. _Can't you see that I am actually having an intelligent conversation with... him?"_

 _Despite Emi's embarrassment on not knowing the boy's name, he just smiled begrudgingly amused as she trailed off. The boy bowed from the waist, instead of just nodding his head at her in a pseudo-bow._

" _Kominato Haruichi."_

" _Nakano Emiri," the golden-eyed girl returned; a genuine smile on her face for once._

 _Emiri would've called the scene they made fairytale-esque if Eijun hadn't interrupted the beautiful moment with awkward squawking and flurried movements._

" _Emi-_ nee _!"_

* * *

 **…**

* * *

"Nakano, Kawakami, if you're done your flirting," the gruff voice of their history teacher nudged the girl out of her stroll down memory lane.

The girl blinked, dazed for a bit, before turning around lethargically and answering with a drawled yes. The pitcher on the other hand, already redder than imaginable, somehow darkened with the intense colour and buried his face in his arms to stop the lightshow.

Their greying history teacher just gruffly scoffed—all the things he did were gruff—and turned to write down whatever pertained to his lesson today on the board.

"Oh, Kawakami," Emi whispered and the boy peaked an eye out from his self-made cage. "Congratulations on making the first-string."

The unseen smile that split his face would've made Emi declare him the winner of being the most adorable person in existence.

' _She was watching...'_

 **— [ + ] —**

Feeling like she had to walk her cousin to practice, Emiri did just that.

The girl couldn't exactly explain why she was feeling this way, only that she did. She got the same feeling when Shōichi was being particularly scathing. To explain succinctly, Emi had a pseudo-sense for when shit was about to go _down_. She was more or less forced into developing it seeing as she had known Shōichi for years and that boy wasn't afraid of any fight he caused by mouthing off. For someone who looked willowy, he had both muscle and terrifying accuracy when he needed it. Not to mention his pseudo-telepathy.

Anyways, Emi knew Eijun was going to pull some stupid shit.

Some _real_ stupid shit.

The idiot was going to screw himself up and she didn't know how, but she could feel it in every atom in her body.

And that worried her.

Honestly, she found him annoying and his exuberance wasn't missed by her but Eijun was Ei- _chan_ to her. Her little shit of a cousin that _never_ failed to visit her when she landed in the hospital—by his own machinations or not—and called her Emi- _nee_ even when she said not to. Even when he was annoyed with her, which was rare considering the norm was that she was annoyed with him; he would come to her for some kind of advice. Eijun chose her over their two older cousins.

So she cared about him a little bit.

But more than anything if the idiot royally screwed up, she would _never_ hear the end of it from just about every relative because there was a reason she was at Seidō—and it wasn't art.

Speeding up her stride, Emi managed to nab the back of her cousin's collar and yank him down so she her lips were right next to his ear.

"I swear, if you do something even _remotely_ stupid... I am will box you up and send you to Jii-chan with a note on why."

Eijun struggled to throw her a hybrid look between a pout and a glare as if to ask why she didn't trust him.

' _Bitch_.'

"Listen here, and listen well, you little shit"—Emi spun him around and yanked him back down via his tie— "you are here on a _baseball_ scholarship. It is a miracle you managed to stay on after offending the head coach on your _first_ day. If you continue to offend people, especially important people, they will drop you—talent or no talent—and you're seriously lacking in talent so far. Did you see Furuya?"

Eijun grimaced at her reminder of the aloof boy. But more than that, he couldn't believe she was telling _him_ to not offend someone! Furuya had managed to offend every single _senpai_ that wasn't on the first string in _one_ night—with just a _sentence_!

If his Emi- _nee_ was going to tell of anyone for having a loose cannon of a mouth, it should be Furuya!

...Wait.

On second thought, Eijun didn't want his Emi- _nee_ interacting with Furuya.

His rival already had the attention of the entire coaching staff, most of the _senpai,_ and Miyuki Kazuya—Furuya could have all of them _except_ his Emi- _nee._

" _Oi_ ," Emi snapped irritably, snapping her fingers several times to draw her cousin out of his possessive thoughts—not that she knew what he was thinking with that stupid pout on his face. "Did you hear me?"

The pitcher nodded, still pouting.

Emi rolled her eyes and let go of him, smoothing down his uniform absentmindedly. "Come on, I'll walk you to practice."

Eijun grinned, grabbing Emiri's hand and threading his fingers through her own despite her protests and proceeded to drag her over to the diamond. Emi shook her head fondly in spite of all the times she almost tripped with his haphazard leading.

When they got there, Emi noted the boy with wild, viridian green hair that was alternating between gaping at them unabashedly and looking away with flushed cheeks. If he didn't have the looks of a troublemaker, Emi would've found it endearing but considering he did, she was wondering if he was having perverted thoughts about the two of them...

 _Ugh_. They were _cousins_.

Couldn't he tell?

(Kuramochi couldn't and as such, continued to live in shame with the knowledge that Sawamura had a "girlfriend" and he didn't.)

Suddenly, the boy's face grew furious and he began to stomp over to them as he seethed. "Sa-wa-mu-ra! Hurry up and get changed! _Now_!"

Eijun quickly snapped to attention at the boy's barking commands, practically saluting and responding with a, " _Hai_ , Kuramochi- _senpai_!" before he scampered off.

Soon, it was just the two of them.

Emi and the viridian haired stranger.

The boy just stared at her, scuffing the ground with his feet every so often, blushing while the girl in turn studied him. She loved the colour of his hair—she didn't question if it was natural, she had seen even stranger colouring in middle school—and while his troublemaker persona was currently broken by his flush, Emiri decided that it suited him; it suited him _well_.

"You're cute too," she mumbled absentmindedly.

The golden-eyed girl didn't bother to watch his reaction—completely blocking it out—when she caught sight of a familiar shade of pink and walked towards it. The girl's face immediately split with a smile only to turn into a small frown when she noticed that the shade was right by the style was wrong.

There was _another_ pink-haired baseball player at Seidō?

Probably not in her year, seeing as she would've spotted that hair anywhere in the second-years section and definitely not a first-year since she keenly remembered Kominato being the only one with such vibrant hair on the first-years' bench.

"Nakano-san?"

Emi twisted around to find both the familiar shade of pink and hairstyle she was accustomed to. "Ah, Kominato."

The boy strode up to her, a bit stiff, not from practice but from their rather new acquaintance. Those kind of tells were easy for her to pick up especially when paired with a pleasant if not somewhat forced polite smile and the touch of hesitance in his greeting.

"Here again?"

"Yeah, I felt like I needed to walk Eijun over here—who knows what he'd do."

Haruichi hummed. "Did he tell you about Chris- _senpai_?"

"Is that his name?" Emi replied sardonically, crossing her arms in exasperation. "I didn't get it from all the bitching he was doing today."

The younger boy's face lit up and Emiri couldn't help feel warm inside for amusing the boy.

"Oh, thank you for the cupcakes the other day—they were delicious."

Emi's smile brightened. "No problem, you deserve a sweet treat for being so sweet."

Haruichi's face quickly coloured to match his hair and Emi giggled.

"Do you want me to bring you more?"

Haruichi waved his hands frantically. "N-No—No! It's fine... You don't have to do that."

Emi rolled her eyes and finished with a deadpanned expression, silently asking the boy if he was serious. "It's not a problem, Kominato. Be honest."

"...Can I have the same kind as last time?"

"Sure," Emi grinned victoriously, "Half-dozen or a dozen?"

"Well—"

"Two dozen it is."

" _E-Eh_?!"

Emiri nodded to the clumps of baseball players that were not so subtly watching the conversing pair of opposite sexes. Honestly... Stereotyping was so _exhausting_ to deal with. While she knew her relationship with Shōichi kind of proved that boy and girl couldn't be just friends, Emi had numerous close _platonic_ relationships with a bunch of guys her age or not.

(Whether that was because Shōichi scared the living shit out of the most of them or not hadn't been proven quite yet.)

Haruichi ducked his head down in both embarrassment and guilt; he hadn't intended to bring so much unwanted attention to Emi but he'd forgotten that the only girls who came to practice were the managers. The fangirls just stuck to matches or spied on them from afar, as he'd learn, too afraid of their coach to approach.

Emiri smiled endearingly and reached up to pat the boy's head affectionately.

"It's okay, Kominato," the girl soothed, "I'm used to it."

"Wah—Emi! What're you doing!"

"Mostly because of that idiot."

Haruichi's heart went out to the girl as Eijun all but lunged at her with fury.

The girl easily side-stepped the oncoming pitcher and _yanked_ his ear. "Don't yell, idiot. Especially not near me, or did you forget?"

Haruichi watched the interaction with something akin to morbid curiosity. He recalled his batchmate calling the older girl his sister but he knew their relation wasn't exactly that because of their differing surnames. Their exact relation wasn't particularly what interested him—more their chemistry.

Haruichi couldn't exactly remember the last time he and his brother were this close and intimate with each other nor could he pinpoint when a subtle wall begin to build between the two of them

Maybe it was when Haruichi began to mimic his brother.

Or when Ryōsuke decided to attend Seidō.

He didn't know.

(And it bothered him.)

Unseen, his eyes began to cloud over with envy as the two cousins began to pinch at each other's cheeks—well, Emi began to pinch Eijun's cheeks—and continue to argue heatedly with their faces almost smooshed together.

 **— [ + ] —**

"Kuramochi."

Even with more than twenty metres between them, the shortstop quickly responded to his near year-long partner's beckoning and jogged over. The elder Kominato was watching the conversation between Sawamura's girlfriend and his younger brother with his usual unreadable expression and half-lidded eyes that betrayed nothing to the world.

"Who is she? Do you know?" Ryōsuke's honeyed voice dripped with expectation and the shortstop knew that the second baseman had had a good laugh at his reaction when the girl had called him cute.

 _Him._ Cute.

 _What_.

"I don't know her," Kuramochi answered truthfully albeit slowly. "I've seen her... hanging out with Sawamura though."

The third-year hummed and turned towards the other second-years who, like everyone else, had clumped together to stare curiously—if not in awe—at the unfamiliar girl. Having been prompted by the third-year's attention, Kuramochi's peers responded with answers not unlike his.

Except Miyuki.

The _tanuki_ bastard.

The catcher had become exceedingly more annoying ever since he'd been assigned to Furuya; taking out his buried frustration out on his peers. While Furuya certainly possessed talent in pitching, as far as they could see, it seemed like the freshman was utterly obsessed with pitching yet hadn't the slightest to improve his. Add own pitchers' natural tendency to be egotistical and the boy's lone wolf mentality and even the _great_ Miyuki could be driven up a wall a bit.

"Nakano? She came to watch the scrimmage for Sawamura. Snapped at him, too," the catcher sniggered in delight. "She has a mouth on her."

"Nakano?" Ryōsuke prompted the bespectacled catcher for the rest of her name.

But before the _tanuki_ could do so, someone beat him to it.

"Nakano Emiri," Shirasu completed, immediately drawing everyone's attention. The stoic outfielder wasn't one for conversation typically unless it involved his best friend Kawakami, which was rare in itself seeing as Kawakami wasn't much a talker either. "She's in the same class as Nori and I."

He didn't bother mentioning that the aforementioned pitcher had a bit of a crush on the girl.

The blond didn't need to give Miyuki anymore material to rib his friend with.

The second baseman seemed satisfied with the information he now had as he turned to continue to watch the interaction with his apparent peer and the freshmen—seeing as Sawamura arrived howling.

(Kuramochi didn't expect Sawamura to be the jealous type _and_ like older girls.)

 **— [ + ] —**

Emi continued to jerk the stretchy flesh of her cousin's cheek away from his skull, uncaring of the spectacle she was making.

Was she embarrassed?

 _Yes_. Definitely.

And who was the perpetrator?

Eijun. _Again_.

And what was she doing now?

Torturing him.

Thus, Emi didn't particularly care if she was making a big deal or making an even bigger spectacle of herself. She had Eijun in her claws and wasn't keen on letting him slither his way out of her grasp just yet.

The girl was confident that he would be ribbed by his teammates for what she was doing right now—matter of fact, she was _betting_ on it.

Eijun needed a fact check on what was embarrassing and not because barreling at her with jealousy all over his face was certainly embarrassing.

Why couldn't the idiot have smoothly walked up and guided her away?

Or slickly insert himself into their conversation and manipulate it so _he_ was the topic?

Oh, wait.

This was _Eijun,_ her moronic, exuberant, sunshine child of a cousin.

Not _Shōichi_ , her smooth bastard of an... ex.

(She missed him.)

Her frustration growing at the thought of Shōichi , Emi pinched Eijun's other cheek and yanked with renewed force.

The pitcher waved his arms wildly; not daring to actually lay a hand on is cousin. "Eh—Em—Emi!" He protested weakly, trying to move away but just worsening the pain that was beginning to radiate all over his face.

"You're an _idiot_!" Emi sneered, finally letting go and turning away from him with a huff.

Eijun hurriedly rubbed his burning cheeks—in more ways than one. While he knew making a sight of them both pissed her off, she was usually quieter in her revenge. Emiri hated having the spotlight on her.

But apparently he had pissed her off _that_ much.

(Eijun couldn't but feel her fuse was shorter than the norm these past few weeks.)

He would've said more but the coach's booming interrupted them.

"Practice is starting!"

Amongst their confrontation, the leering clumps had begun to practice, having gotten bored of watching Eijun being whipped by an unknown albeit cute girl. The coach's call served as both a warning to stragglers—like him—and officially call the afternoon practice to a start.

" _Yabe_! Harucchi, let's go!"

"Ah, damn—Kominato!" Emiri managed to snag the boy's uniform with a few quick steps. "I know the idiot is going to mess up somehow so keep a closer eye on him since I can't."

Emi let the boy slip out of her flimsy grasp as he gave her a nod and smile while her cousin shouted another complaint—miffed at her.

"Kominato, keep him in line—and make sure he follows his orders! Tell me if he doesn't!"

Eijun could bitch and bitch and _bitch_ at her all he wanted. But considering he was basically getting a personalized coach that was training him one-on-one? That _shit_ was gold right there. Eijun didn't see the importance or significance in getting a coach but Emiri did.

Even though Furuya was undoubtedly a _kaibutsu_ , having a coach assigned to him meant that they saw potential in him. They saw a potential that she hadn't seen and still didn't see. And knowing just how hair-brained her cousin was, this was going to be a long-term investment and yet still...

Emi smiled cryptically.

She didn't particularly mind missing more of her personal art time if she had a project as close to her heart as this one.

She adored watching things grow and revelling in awe in what they'd become. The beauty attained after growth was simply astounding and glorious and just awe-inspiring.

And Emi wasn't just talking about puberty.

(Though she wondered if puberty had missed her at times—her genes couldn't possibly say she was meant to be _this_ short.)

 _That—_ that was what inspired her.

Emiri was keenly aware of several pairs of eyes that were watching her but she was too lost in her nostalgia to glare back. She missed being on an actual team so much that it hurt. To have an extended family beyond blood and infrangible bonds forged through companionship. The laughter and smiles and sheer joy that everyone— _everyone—_ possessed no matter how tired or aching they were, no matter the hours of hard labour and frustration.

And seeing it all come to fruition.

It was _magical_.

(And Shōichi had taken that all away from her.)

 **— [ + ] —**

Dark eyes hidden away from the world by equally dark lenses sparked in recognition.

Sharp, brown eyes, framed by glass and metal, glinted with interest.

Cold, hazel eyes regarded her with passing curiosity for her earlier display but placed a value of little importance on her, instead turning towards his ignorant, arrogant charge.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Writing the boys reacting or interacting with Emi is fun. If my muse stays on track Emi will meet Chris next chapter.**


	6. Chapter VI — Parenting 101

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form, own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_. **

* * *

**Chapter VI — Parenting 101**

* * *

 _Children could be a blessing or a punishment. Depends on the situation._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Emiri was getting fed up of her cousin's constant _bitchy_ complaints.

All Eijun had been doing since the 20th was bitch and bitch and _bitch_ about his trainer—who she had to learn was named Chris from Kominato. She'd heard about how he'd been given a training menu but she had yet to see it nor did she see any physical results. Admittedly, physical results took some time to make themselves known but there were subtle differences that could be seen—stiffness in the limbs or extremities from doing exercises over and over, soreness or at least some form of muscle pain.

Her cousin didn't have anything different than she'd been seeing since he started running with the tire.

Which meant quite a bit about how the trainee-trainer relationship was going.

Eijun was apparently never going to listen and no amount of violence she could inflict upon him would do anything to change his stubborn perspective of Chris.

Not to mention that Eijun had been doing his damnedest—much to Emi's eternal amusement—to keep her away from the baseball team. In fact, he'd all but stolen the cupcakes she'd intended to give to Kominato and loudly proclaimed he would do it for her and even did a "good guy" pose.

 _Moron_.

Still, Kominato hadn't gotten back to her on anything that needed her attention and it was pretty easy to tell that other than being proud and stubborn, Eijun was doing surprisingly better than she'd ever anticipated.

However, if he was going to continue being a blockhead, Emiri would have to intervene.

But there was little she could actually do being limited to minimal interaction with the baseball team due to both not being a manager nor very close to the team relationship-wise. The people she did know—Kawakami and Shirasu—were mere acquaintances at best and just somewhat familiar faces at the least. Kominato was a year her junior and in a different class than Eijun so he couldn't keep an eye on him on all times—even during practice since they had different menus—and couldn't report back to her since they were different years and had no way of contacting each other.

Emiri also didn't have enough of a good reason to stay back and watch her cousin either. She'd never been keen on watching the same shit day in and day out and it wasn't like she could actually be on the diamond and interact with the people.

Which meant she couldn't keep a chokehold on Eijun to keep him from fucking up gigantically.

(Technically, she could—she had connections—but was she really that good of a person? _No_.)

The only solution would be to become a manager for the team.

Except Emi would never do that.

 _Never again_.

Too many good and bad memories were associated with the term "manager" and the bad memories, especially the worse ones, were too fresh—too raw—in her memory for her to go through the process again.

She had a love-hate relationship with her cousin but she certainly did _not_ love him enough to willingly involve herself as a manager.

"—Emi- _nee_ are you even listening to me?!"

Automatically, Emi's palm met with his Eijun's face in basically a slap but could have doubled for a pat. From an outside perspective, especially with how small Emi was in stature, the contact was light and more like a tap than anything but Eijun howled. And when Emi pulled her hand away, a bright red handprint highlighted the centre of his face—the shape of her fingers imprinted on his forehead and eyes while her palm had smacked into his nose and mouth.

Eijun tried to glare through the pain but Emi was unfazed, face frightfully blank and without a single care in the world.

"Look, if all you're going to do is complain, you should quit"—Emi's fingers deftly pinched her cousin's mouth _shut_ — "because you're not putting in any work."

Eijun swatted Emi's hand away, mouth twisting into an annoyed frown. "But—"

"Do _not_ interrupt me," Emi narrowed her eyes challengingly. "You've been doing the best of your ability to keep me away from the team and I am staying away to amuse you. And it hurts because I can't spend time with Kominato. I still get Kawakami but _Kominato_. Eijun, he's adorable and you're doing me a disservice by keeping us apart—"

"Emi! Stop ignoring me, damn it!"

The golden-eyes girl gave him a sardonic smile. "Your trainer probably feels the same way."

Eijun's brows furrowed and instead of frustration and annoyance, his features started to twist and pinch in confusion.

Emi let out a long-suffering sigh. "Eijun, I am so fed up with you at this point I'm not even mad anymore."

"Hah?"

"All you do is complain, you don't listen and may I remind you, your ego is way too big for a beginner," Emi listed, uncaring of his feelings. They'd already been over this when she called him out on being an asshole the other day—and he was _still_ being an asshole. "You're an asshole right now. And all I have to put up with is your complaints. You're trainer? He has to put up with all your shit. All of it."

While her cousin was listening to her intently—as he should—he was still very, very confused.

"...What was I just doing to you?"

"Ignoring me!" he answered crossly, pouting and crossing his arms like a child.

 _Good._

At least he noticed that much.

"And what do you do to your trainer?"

"...Ignore him?"

"And you got so pissed," Emi pointed out, connecting the dots for him. "Add on being egotistical and a holier than thou attitude and do you think he's happy with you? You're not that stupid to not know the answer—or at least, I hope you're not _that_ stupid."

Her cousin huffed and turned away from her.

Emi frowned and kicked his back, satisfied by his yelp.

She paid no attention the glare he aimed at her face as she continued to pick at the _anpan_ in her hand.

"He doesn't deserve my attention! Or respect! Who does he think he is?! He always leaves early and I can't understand a thing he says—"

And there he went again—going off on all the reasons he deserved to be with "Miyuki Kazuya."

(Emi kind of hated the bespectacled catcher from all of Eijun's bitching.)

There was no stopping him now.

The girl tuned out his voice. She wasn't lying when she said she was so annoyed with him that she couldn't even be mad. It was draining to be mad all the time and she had crashed not too long ago from the sheer frustration she felt from dealing with her cousin.

Emi briefly wondered if this what parenting was like.

It certainly did seem like it considering her father wasn't one to hold back on regaling her with all the shit she'd pulled when she was younger.

Not listening when people told you to do this.

Being selfish as shit.

Stupidly honest.

Having endless energy.

Not liking other people for the silliest of reasons.

Eijun certainly had all those characteristics. If he was about a hundred and thirty centimetres shorter, a girl, and had her colouring, he could certainly pass off as a two year-old Emiri.

As much as her cousin was cute as a toddler, dealing with a now near sixteen year-old with the attitude of a toddler wasn't the most appealing thing in the world. Especially not to someone with obvious problems that needed more attention.

She hadn't seen this Chris but it was more than obvious, if one thought about it, that the third-year had personal issues that Eijun was undoubtedly stirring up. From what she collected from her cousin's endless rants, Chris was a blunt trainer with a heavy focus on physical training rather than training via motions—as in going through the motions. Eijun had commented more than once on his "half-assed" attendance but had never seemed to pick up on the fact that the coach never said anything to Chris nor did the third-year seem to get any punishment.

(But then again, the first-year pitcher probably didn't notice given his observation skills.)

If you saw it the way Emi saw it, Chris had some form of favoritism that probably had something to do with his physical capabilities seeing as he was so focused on the physical aspect of being an athlete. Eijun's lack of care for his physical well-being and ignorance was undoubtedly driving the third-year catcher up a wall.

Which wasn't doing anything to help their relationship at all.

(It'd be a miracle if Chris didn't hate Eijun right now.)

Emiri looked over at Eijun—who was still lost in his own world—and closed her eyes in resignation.

"A fucking moron. I am related to a fucking moron."

Call her intervention half-assed but she couldn't do anything more.

Eijun was going to piss off the wrong person and then maybe he would see what she'd been trying to get him to see for the past while. Selfish, ignorant _bitch_.

"Eijun, I'm going to walk you to practice and stay and watch."

 _That_ got his attention. "Why?!"

Emi hummed, simply resting her cheek on her palm and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "I want to see Kominato."

(Eijun was so, so, _so_ jealous of Harucchi.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emi had lied.

Well, not completely.

Eijun had grumbled all the way to the diamond—despite clutching her hand like a good toddler—and had reluctantly let her fingers slip from his when she caught sight of her favourite _kohai_.

"Kominato," she said in greeting, nearly cupping the boy's face in her hands. The only thing that stopped her was the boy's delighted smile when he turned to greet her. Emi's heart melted a little at the smile, all previous intentions momentarily thrown into a sack and out the window.

"Nakano- _san_ ," Haruichi greeted, genuinely smiling in fondness. He had been a little disappointed when Eijun had delivered the cupcakes instead of the girl herself.

Despite his _senpai'_ s harshness when dealing with Eijun, she was nice to have around. Observant and sharp-tongued yet considerate and somewhat mothering. She was _interesting_ and having her around meant things would be more amusing than usual.

"Still so adorable."

The pink-haired boy laughed lightly, a bit embarrassed by her forwardness but all the same delighted. She gave him sweets—sweets that were to die for—because she found him cute. Not to mention she didn't call him cute because she had a superficial crush on him because of being an athlete like most fangirls.

(Eijun fumed behind them, more than pissed about not being included in the flowery situation.)

"Did you like the cupcakes?"

" _Hai_ , they're delicious—just like the first batch you gave me."

Emi smiled up at him, loving the fact she didn't have to crane her neck as much as she had to with her cousin. "Did your _senpai_ steal them?"

Haruichi smiled at the knowing glint in her eye. "I ate a couple."

He didn't need to elaborate on how he'd had to stash them away as soon as Eijun had tossed the boxes at him nor how despite his efforts, he'd only gotten to eat _two_ out of _twenty-four._ His roommates were more than miffed than he'd received baked goods and had promptly distributed them after their late-night practice after fangirling over how fucking good they were. Nothing—especially food—was holy in this place and which meant that everything was up for grabs.

Haruichi couldn't fault them despite being slightly bitter about it.

The cupcakes were _that_ good.

The dark-haired girl nudged his side familiarly and sent him a knowing smile. "You want more?"

Why was she even asking that?

Never mind the guilt he felt whenever he was handed the plain boxes filled with the baked treats that were decorated beautifully.

(He often wondered if she made them herself.)

"If it's not too much trouble— _ah_!"

"Come, Harucchi! We're going to be late for practice!"

Emiri had to laugh at the disgruntled but accepting look on the pink-haired boy's face as Eijun unceremoniously dragged his new friend by the collar of his shirt into the actual practice grounds. The shorter of the two was grappling at the pitcher's eagle clawed grip and telling him to _stop it_.

Eijun was _such_ a jealous creature.

She probably would've found his jealousy endearing if he wasn't such a loudmouth.

Or an idiot.

Or naïve.

Or simple-minded—

Wait... That was basically the same as being an idiot or stupid.

Or a lot of things.

Actually, she hated jealousy either way.

Emi nodded sagely at her train of thoughts. She'd never found jealousy a beautiful thing—knowing first hand that if you let it possess you, drown you in the sheer negativity, it would lead to some pretty regrettable things.

(Like her break-up.)

As much as she hated jealous, the dark-haired girl knew that it was basically in the nature of a sportsman to be jealous—to have the selfish desire to be the one and only player in that position or be in possession of the ball.

The "for the team" mentality of Japan was beautiful notion but it directly contrasted the "for myself" mentality that was innate in just about everyone.

What could I do to put myself ahead?

How do I improve?

What could I do to make myself better?

How do I make myself stand out?

What do I need to do to win?

It wasn't rocket science to understand what these boys in front of her were thinking. They could call themselves a team but, in the end, "their" win was _someone's_ win—someone who had pushed above and beyond and carried the team to victory. But you could call it _your_ win if you participated. _Your_ win if you played _your_ part.

She wondered if they realized how fine yet paradoxically thick the line was to play for the team and to play for yourself.

She wondered if they realized it—realized that playing was no longer about having fun but winning.

And what winning was to them was to be the best in the competition, to wear medals and hold trophies and wear a crown upon their heads that would force people to look at them.

To look at them with hate and envy and _fear_.

(She _hated_ winning.)

Emi wondered if her face had always been this stiff. It felt like she'd gotten a clay face mask except that it had been baked and cured in a kiln—her muscles and tissue solid and immovable. Her cheeks felt too heavy to smile—even politely—and she wondered if her eyes looked as glassy as the glaze you'd find on a vase.

She felt like a vase too.

Empty.

Or was she so full she felt nothing at all? So full she couldn't possibly feel anything more?

She didn't know.

In truth, Emiri didn't want to know and she didn't want to find out.

She kind of felt numb in both body and mind.

(Why did _this_ have to be her life?)

Why was _this_ her life—

A large hand settled itself over her dark locks. She couldn't quite feel the hand as she could've had she been grasping it but it was large and heavy. She could feel the weight of the person's fingers skimming her hairline, along her forehead, and the heavier weight of palm along the back of her head. The pads of the fingertips were hard, skin thick and she could feel the inconsistencies along the palm of the hand from calluses against the sensitive skin of her scalp, weakly protected by her silken hair.

An annoyed expression overtook the previously stone-faced girl's features.

Emi know of only one person—a _demon_ —who would touch her head so callously.

Golden eyes burned, molten in her anger as she whipped around, hair hovering about her like a dark halo.

"Shin- _nii_ ," Emi hissed, pushing his heavy limb away.

The former pitcher and now coach allowed it, remaining stone-faced in the face of the short girl's wrath. A fond smile almost wormed its way onto his face. Emiri was _small_ but he could remember a time when she had been even _smaller_ —even smaller than knee-high on him and before she could even crawl.

However, a smirk _did_ quirk his lips as he looked at her evenly through his sunglasses. "Emiri."

Emi huffed, almost childishly stomping her feet. Kataoka was the only one who called her by her full given name, never one for honourifics or cute things in general.

Which made him _annoying as fuck_.

Especially because he didn't find her at all terrifying—even when she would cry and scream bloody murder.

 _Ugh_.

She didn't like being called scary or horrifying or anything someone would use to describe anything in a horror movie or thriller, but Emiri rather preferred being found scary if it meant people would respect her. But at the same time, she hated being called scary because she really wasn't. So, if someone agreed with her, they tended to treat her like a kid.

Which wouldn't have been all bad—being spoiled was nice—if they didn't forget she was sixteen going on to seventeen.

She'd grown out of being childish a long, long, _long_ time ago.

So she refused to pitch a fit when Kataoka continued to refuse to call her, her preferred Emi.

"Emi" was so much easier to say than "Emiri."

Sounded better too.

Thus, she never could understand nor would she ever come to understand why the bloody _fuck_ he refused to call her Emi.

 _What was fucking wrong with Emi?!_

E-Mi. Two syllables. _Two_.

Unless she'd been taught wrong—and if she was, she was going to be _furious_ —she knew that two was less than three.

Hence, _Emi was easier to say than Emiri_!

Before she'd even realized it—too caught up in her feelings—the bastard had walked off, no doubt to supervise his rowdy group of boys—but he had walked off! On _her_.

"That _bitch_ ," she seethed, gritting her teeth. A wrathful demon rearing its ugly head and breathing fire and clawing brimstone looked calmer than her at the moment. "This is why Miya- _nee_ and you broke up!"

( _Lies_.)

...Maybe that was a little mean.

Wait.

It couldn't have been mean.

From what she remembered vaguely as a five year-old, the two of them had a fairly amicable break up though awkward since it didn't end in fiery explosions and timebomb arguments.

Emi pursed her lips, not finding it in her to be mad anymore.

(If Miya- _nee_ could get over six years' worth of feelings, she could get over four.)

— **[ + ] —**

" _Oi,_ did you see that?"

"Coach interacting with Nakano?"

" _Yeah_."

"...I thought I was seeing things."

"Me too!"

Kataoka turned his fierce gaze over to two of players, a subtle frown curving his lips at their blatant whispering. Gossiping was for after practice. "If you have time to talk, you're not putting your all into it!"

" _Hai_!"

Emi didn't know it, but her name was beginning to spread like wildfire through the team, having caught the attention of the elder Kominato brother—which was _never_ a good thing—and also for those cupcakes that the younger Kominato had been receiving as of late. Add on Sawamura's general clinginess to her and now the coach's apparent interest—if not kind of creepy and inappropriate, considering roles at the school—affectionate gesture and you had yourself the latest gossip of Seidō's baseball team.

 _Joy_.

Because who wouldn't want a part-time fan club made up of ninety-three hormonal—and therefore emotional, sometimes stupid, sometimes clever but always annoying—boys that played a glorified game of fetch.

(To use the rather apt description provided by a rather "shady" friend of Emi's.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri knew she was going to get paged for coming home close to sunset—if she made it home by then. Her parents had let her off the hook on the first day of school, seeing as she was still pissed at them for and Shōichi was there, but she really didn't have an excuse to stay. While she did become a pseudo-member of the art club—they let her submit her competitive work through them due to her personal preferences as well as her skill—their club hours, if she went, were during the morning.

And while her cousin was at practice, and she could say she was watching him, who was walking her home?

Metaphysically, an angel, ghost or even a deity.

Physically?

No one.

Her father loved, loved, _loved_ her but he was a little too enthusiastic about what needed to be done to keep her healthy. It was hard to blame him, considering she spent most of her childhood imprisoned in white walls and practically chained to beds that weren't particularly suited for comfort. Her recovery periods at home were all overseen by her mother who trusted Emi to know her limits.

In short, her mother was perfectly fine with her walking home alone in the evening—as long as she had some form of protection like pepper spray—but her father would rather she have the Imperial Army of the Great Empire of Japan walking her home if not a tall, intimidating friend.

Luckily, if she was guessing right, Chris was both tall and intimidating.

Thus, she could say she was escorted by a tall, intimidating "friend."

(It didn't help Emi sort of wanted to make her dad emotionally bleed when he found out she was escorted home by a boy he didn't know.)

He had envious brown waves that curled subtly and gently, framing his square jaw and handsome features. His skin was fair, a hint of an olive tone to it, and dreamily blemish free. The third-year was much taller than Emi, closer to Shōichi's height, but that wasn't something that fazed her. Nearly all of the girl's friends were Amazonian—tall, fierce, authoritative and tyrannical. His hazel eyes were a beautiful shade if not a touch cold.

He looked intimidating enough and the sports' uniform could also be considered another intimidation factor.

Emi certainly knew of players that weren't afraid to use their athleticism in fights and neither were their teams fearful of jumping in after them.

"I'm guessing you're the infamous Chris whose name haunts my lunch hour?"

Icy hazel eyes side-eyed her, his long stride slowing as she calmly and indifferently sidled up to him. He regarded with a spark of recognition but kept his face forward, even as he spoke. "Sawamura's girlfriend?"

 _What._

Emi shuddered. "Cousin, thanks."

Eijun's girlfriend? Yeah, _fuck no_.

Talk about _Ew_. With a capital E.

Whoever else was thinking that shit was going to _die_ but Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was Chris was a _senpai_ and stranger at this point.

(Kuramochi sneezed violently, while several other Seidō players shivered at the same time.)

Chris' lips twitched minutely at her reaction. "Confronting me?"

"More like apologizing."

Now she possessed Chris' full attention, the catcher turning his head to look down at the short, dark-haired girl. Her golden eyes didn't meet with his but despite the biting edge in her voice, her features were soft and relaxed.

She was sincere.

"Eijun is more than a handful," Emi continued shortly, "though he tries his best—or rather, he tries what he thinks is best."

...If Chris wasn't a quiet individual by nature, he would've snorted at her description of her cousin.

"But he has good intentions at heart—he's an idiot after all—so you'll have to more patient with him. Until he gets a wake-up call."

Chris did quirk a brow at that. "And you aren't giving him one?"

"About that," Emi rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "If I tried waking him up anymore I might just put him in a coma."

"I figured he was the type."

"A dumbass? Pretty much," Emi snorted. "Here."

Rather boldly—in Chris' opinion—the girl slipped dainty fingers around his wrist, her other hand rolling a can of brewed coffee from her grasp into his palm, curling her fingers over his to close his hand over the apparent gift. Her hands were soft and warm and fingers gentle and delicate. He didn't know what was more jarring, the fact that she'd just randomly presented him with coffee or _her hands_.

The catcher came to an abrupt stop, staring at the coffee then at her.

Emiri had come to a stop, a half metre in front of Chris with her hands clutched behind her back a polite of not cryptic smile gracing her feminine features.

"I figured that you needed some," she tilted her hand, a dark curtain of silky hair shielding her right shoulder from his smouldering gaze. She hummed a bit, eyes roving, assessing him as he did her. Chris couldn't help but muse on the differences between the cousins—if her word was to be trusted.

"Call me if you need anything—I'm going this way," Emi instructed, a finger pointing in the direction of the train station before she walked off, leaving Chris alone on his journey to meet his father at the gym.

Call her?

The catcher rolled the can in his hand, lips quirking as he noticed a strip of paper attached to its surface by condensation. The pencil the message was written in was faint due to the translucency of the paper, but the message was legible.

 _Nakano Emiri. XXX-XXXX-XXXX_

' _How bold.'_

— **[ + ] —**

"Emi- _chan_ ," the Nakano matriarch greeted in place of the traditional greeting. "You're late."

Emi hummed, acknowledging her mother's words but not deeming her fit with a reply, too engrossed with removing her shoes and socks and wiggling her bare feet against the cool floor. "I was talking with a _senpai_."

Her father peeked his head out from the kitchen, an apron over his usual work attire, with brow raised. "Was it important?"

"I guess," Emi shrugged, setting one foot on the first step. Her parents exchanged brief glances. They hadn't gotten any calls—a personal issue? "It was about Eijun."

Eiko placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, face pinching with curiosity and worry as her father fully stepped out of the kitchen, hands on his waist but not looking at all intimidating with the slather of multi-coloured icing down the front of the pastel pink apron. Both their expressions prompted her to elaborate.

"I told him to be more patient with Eijun and that he could call me for advice—it wasn't very long. I'm only late because he attended part of the practice but he walked me to the station as recompense."

 _Technically_ , he walked her to the station.

It wasn't that much of lie seeing as she was lucky enough that he'd been walking in the general direction of the train station. Her lie was only off by a couple hundred metres. Close enough to the truth that Emi wouldn't get into any real trouble if her father were to find out.

"Ah," both parents said at once, "that's good."

Emi shrugged her shoulders and trotted up the stairs. Her mother on the other hand, walked back into the kitchen, her face stricken and pulled her immobile husband along with her, a similar expression on his features.

" _She_ was lecturing someone on being _patient_ with Ei- _chan?"_

" _Him_?"

Suffice to say, her parents were worrying about wildly different things.

"Katsuki, that's not the problem here."

"She has another male friend, Eiko, that's plenty a problem."

"She has plenty of boy friends—"

" _Male_ friends."

"She has plenty of _boy_ friends—the problem is she's lecturing someone on what we've been saying to her for weeks. Isn't that a little hypocritical?"

"A boy, Eiko, a fucking _boy_."

"She's had a boyfriend before, Katsuki, do shut up."

"A _boy_ —"

Katsuki's whine was interrupted by his wife slathering rainbow icing all over his face and not the cookies she'd manhandled him to help ice.

Grey eyes scathingly glared down into mirthful honey-coloured irises.

He retaliated justly—squeezing half a piping bag of icing into her hair as she squealed and squirmed.

"Oh, you're an _asshole_."

— **[ + ] —**

Emi didn't expect to wake up to a text from an unknown number when she checked her notifications that morning.

[From: XXX-XXXX-XXXX]

[Subject: ]

 _He cried._

Well, that _totally_ wasn't fucking ominous.

— **[ + ] —**

For once, Emiri didn't have to go and drag Eijun from his seat nor up the stairs to the rooftop.

Instead, when she had gotten up, he'd been at the door, appearing as soon as their teacher had disappeared, a disgruntled and displeased expression on his face. Emi raised a brow challengingly yet curiously—he couldn't possibly be directing that expression at her. Instead of complaints and curses, Eijun simply followed her as she walked, both cousins uncaring of the whispers at their backs nor curious glances.

(Shirasu was prodding at a deflated Nori while Kuramochi ducked back into his classroom, the shortstop preferring to be in the starting catcher's presence instead of... _that_.)

Eijun didn't join his cousin in sitting nor reclining, instead, staring at her through his bangs, fists clenched at his sides and teeth gritted in frustration.

"Did you know?"

Emi glanced at him disinterestedly. "Know what."

"That—Tha—That Chri-Chris- _senpai_ —"

Her cousin couldn't finish, choking on a sob, and bring his hands to his face. The pitcher was so, so, _so_ ashamed and if Emi- _nee_ knew—

"How could you?"

 _Ah_.

(Emi made a mental note to save the unknown number as Chris's.)

"Guess you found out," Emi observed nonchalantly, sitting cross-legged despite wearing a skirt. "So, what did he injure? Leg? Back?"

Eijun growled, "Why didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"Because it was fucking _obvious_ ," Emi snapped, not appreciating her cousin's tone despite his tears. He deserved to be crying in shame. "You're at one of the top baseball schools in the country—people would kill to have a scholarship to—and there's a player that _hasn't_ been kicked off despite cutting? On top of that, you were entrusted to him to be trained—can you not see the fucking picture?"

Eijun's fists clenched tighter but Emiri didn't care. He would never hit her, and if he tried—oh, she _dared_ him to try.

"I've been trying to get it through your thick skull since you were assigned to him before Golden Week—Golden Week is gone, the Kantō tournament is here, the signs have been there since day and now you want answers?" Emi scoffed, "You can't have everything you want."

She threw her cousin a look that just dripped with pity. "Call me half-assed for not accomplishing anything but seriously, the signs have been there. You've just been too caught up in yourself to notice."

"That's not—"

"True? Did you even bother asking why you should be doing this or that exercise? What were the benefits? I've been telling you to listen to him but how could I expect that when you don't even fucking listen to me."

Emi ran a hand through her hair, letting her nails bite lightly into her scalp. "You don't listen to anyone and you don't think. With that criterion alone, it's no wonder they assigned a training hard ass on you—that Miyuki doesn't look the type that would help you the way you are now."

In fact, Emiri felt like the bespectacled boy would encourage her cousin's wildness. The way he was grinning at her cousin during the scrimmage screamed of interest despite the pitcher's failings. Eijun was easy to manipulate when you pushed the right buttons and his reactions were amusing and comical—Shōichi had exploited him for his own entertainment—and considering the similarities between the two bespectacled boys, she wouldn't write off Miyuki having the same sense of shitty humour.

Between an aloof but thoughtful _senpai_ and someone who seemed very much like the baseball playing version of Shōichi, Emi would choose the former to help her raise Eijun properly.

Speaking of the demon child, Eijun sniffled some more, trembling even, as he all but crawled into Emi's lap, the boy refusing to not press his cheek into her thigh.

"Emi- _nee_... What do I do?"

This was so _ass_.

Still, she couldn't keep herself from not answering with how pitiful his expression was, trembling lips set in a determined frown and molten brown eyes staring deeply into her own, looking for answers.

"Make up for it."

"What kind of answer is that?! You're supposed to _help_ me! What do I do?!"

 _Smack_. "Don't you fucking yell at me."

And for good measure, she pushed him off of her and hummed in satisfaction at the loud _thump_ made when his head hit the rooftop.

Served him right.

(And she thought they were having a moment.)

— **[ + ] —**

[From: Nakano Emiri]

[Subject: Warning]

 _He's determined._

Chris tilted his head.

He wondered if the girl had mood swings. Yesterday she had been more than confident, being bold in her actions and blunt in speech but her text alone was rather ambiguous and didn't seem to fit her.

The catcher wanted to reply but the time in the corner of his cellphone's display stopped him.

Maybe he'd catch her after practice.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Updates will slow down from now on, mainly because I have a 4000 word essay that I need to research and write but who knows? I really don't want to write it so I'll probably procrastinate on that by updating when I shouldn't be.**

 **On another note, in Japan, cellphone numbers have eleven digits.**


	7. Chapter VII — It's Going?

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter VII — It's...Going?**

* * *

 _Enthusiasm isn't always contagious._

 _._

 _._

 _._

"I was surprised, that's all."

[ _I am so sorry_ ,] Emi's furrowed expression was transmitted through phone via the tone of her voice. It was exasperation and fondness and the literal embodiment of someone who was just epically _done_. [ _I should've known he'd pull something stupid like that._ ]

"It wasn't so much stupid," Chris struggled to find the proper word, lips twitching upward at the thought of what exactly Emiri's face looked like at the moment. "Thoughtful, yes, but over the top."

[ _Eijun doesn't really do things by halves, Chris-_ senpai,] Emi's tone was scathing if not bemused. [ _I don't think he's ever heard of moderation, much less understand what that is_.]

The third-year catcher had to laugh at that, bringing up his free hand away from the strap of his bag to form a fist in order to muffle his quiet chuckles. The girl was right. As far as he'd observed, her cousin either did not do it, or overworked himself. Either or was a pain. A massive pain in the ass.

To the pitcher's credit, his attempt at being considerate would have been better appreciated if he hadn't piled on mountains upon mountains of food on his tray.

Not only was eating that amount of food out of Chris' ability, it was waste.

(Considering there ninety-three members of the baseball team, food was a valuable commodity.)

[ _If he's bothering you too much you could always hit him_ ,] Emi offered nonchalantly. Chris could imagine her doing something incredibly stereotypically feminine with the way she said that—like lying on her stomach in bed, kicking her feet in the air and twirling silky strands with her dainty fingers.

Chris hummed. "Violence isn't a part of my nature, Nakano."

 _[True, you don't look the type_ ,] Emi agreed, [ _but a bluntness is in your nature, right? Telling him off will probably work well now_.]

"Oh?"

Emi snorted, [ _He's all up in his feelings at the moment—he'll do anything in his power to make up for his shitty behaviour_.]

"A simpleton?"

[ _You're too kind, Chris-_ senpai,] Emi observed dryly, her words coming out in a drawl. The girl inwardly cringed—she sounded a little like Shōichi when she did that. [ _It's alright to call him a dumbass_.]

"I've never been crass, Nakano," Chris admitted blithely, "though I don't mean in that as an insult."

Emiri's snickering filtered over the speaker. [ _What a gentleman. I should've found you and dated you first—or maybe not, I would've set my standards way too high if I did_.]

Chris could feel the tips of his ears reddening at the girl's boldness. As if she was physically next to him, Emi laughed delightedly, the sound airy and beguiling—almost _seductive_ in nature. It suited the girl, he supposed, fitting her outward appearance perfectly. The girl certainly could pass as a Yamato Nadeshiko if she so chose. He also thought the sound both contradicted and elevated her ornery personality—as far as he had seen—as it highlighted her air of someone akin to Kaguya- _hime_ and the warrior persona she held within.

[ _Ah, Chris-_ senpai _, I'm going to have to cut this call short—an idiot is calling_.]

Chris barely had time to mutter his goodbyes before the girl hung up on him.

He couldn't help but feel disappointed but the light of the gym helped to dull such feelings. He would've had to cut the call himself seeing as his father would be waiting at the doors as always.

Still...

Animal perked up when he noticed the slight skip in his son's step.

She was nice to talk to.

(Considering she only ever yelled at Eijun.)

— **[ + ] —**

[ _EMI_!]

"Shut _up,"_ Emi snapped, yanking her phone away from her ear. The girl cursed as she rubbed her abused ear gingerly, static electrocuting her senses. She'd almost forgotten how _physically_ painful it was to speak to him.

[Emi!] Eijun repeated, his tone panicked though significantly lower than the crescendo earlier. Emi was going to _pray_ to whoever deity did that in thanks. [ _Chris-_ senpai _ignored me during dinner and—_!]

Emiri raised a brow, slightly wincing with the action. The girl dropped her phone onto the mattress—seeing as she was lying on her stomach—and proceeded to rub her eyebrow which made the pain turn into an irritating itch.

"Dammit, I think I over plucked them..." the girl whined quietly. Pencil-thin brows were _never_ glamourous and she'd wondered where exactly did the '90's trend originate from because it was _hideous_.

It would be safe to ignore Eijun right now, seeing as he was rambling and raving at the moment. Even their Daichi- _nii_ wasn't able to tame the youngest of the Sawamura-Nakano cousins completely.

Leisurely, Emi swung her legs over the side of the bed and lazily strutted over to her desk—it counted as one when everything wasn't scattered as it was presently—to hopefully find a compact mirror. She cussed, words shooting out like the buckshot in a shotgun, whenever her rummaging hands bumped into something or another that definitely wasn't her stupidly tiny compact. The golden-eyed girl sort of regretted skipping cleaning her desk to watch the scrimmage.

(Okay, the scrimmage had been a couple weeks ago but she couldn't fit in the time between school work, personal projects and most importantly, procrastination.)

Emiri grinned when she found the stupidly tiny mirror, smaller than her palm, and sauntered back over to the bed and pressed the speaker icon. Her hands needed to be free to assess her eyebrows.

[—OI _! Are you even listening, Emi—_ ack _!_ ]

Well, it seems like she returned the conversation at an exciting moment.

Emi could hear distinct clattering and shuffling and then the sound of something dropping heavily, thudding against the floor.

Nonchalantly, Emiri returned to her lounging position from before; lying on her stomach, ankles crossed and feet kicking in the air. She popped the compact open, staring at her glowing eyebrows and pouted. She _had_ plucked a little too much but she could steal some of her mother's brow powder to fill in the slightly too skinny brows. Emi hummed as the sounds of roughhousing continued, angry hissing and rebuking mixing in with cries of pain and pleads to _stop_.

[— _you don't talk to a girl like that, you little_ —]

[ _—_ senpai _! I-I-I give! Unc-Uncle!_ Uncle!]

Emi giggled when she heard a distinctive shrieking laugh that would fit any troublemaker, mocking jeers replying to her little cousin's cries.

His roommates were _rowdy_.

Served him right.

[ _Kuramochi-_ senpai _! That hurts_!] Eijun yowled, though his voice was rather distant from the speaker if Emiri had to guess from the volume of his complaints.

The sound of shuffling and exasperate grumbles in a baritone or bass—Emi couldn't tell, she wasn't a musician and neither was she hearing the voice in person—as someone picked up Eijun's phone. It obviously wasn't Eijun nor the prankster he was wrestling with—the other roommate then?

[ _Ah, Sawamura-_ chan _is a little occupied right now..._ ]

Emi bit back a laugh. Sawamura- _chan?_

At least there was someone who remotely liked her cousin enough to be civil on the team other than her favourite pink-haired boy.

(Which reminded her, she needed to give him some cupcakes during lunch to avoid the _senpai_.)

"Ah, are you Masuko- _senpai_ or Kuramochi?" Emi questioned lightly, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

[ _Sawamura-_ chan _told you about us_?]

"In passing," Emi admitted, "Well, he was actually complaining—something about his first day? But I already beat it into his head that his lateness was his fault."

She did. She _literally_ beat it into his head.

The girl heard rumbling and continued, "Thanks for watching over his dumbass when I can't."

Emi heard a deep chuckle from Masuko—she was guessing based on what her cousin told her in his rants—before the third-year accepted her thanks. The girl hummed some more, the conversation—could it really be called that? —lapsing into an awkward silence as the violence continued in the background. Masuko was debating on whether or not to continue talking to his first-year roommate's so-called girlfriend—if this was in fact her—while the girl in question was debating whether or not she should give her immensely stupid cousin's roommates sugary confections like she did for Kominato.

The terse silence was broken when Eijun's distinctive voice shattered the calm atmosphere between third-year and second-year. [ _AH! Masuko-_ senpai _! That's my phone!_ ]

"Tell him I hung up already because I'm going to sleep," Emi instructed, pressing the end call icon as soon as she heard the grunt of understanding.

On the other end of the now dead line, Masuko delivered the disappointing news to the youngest person in their shared dorm room.

Eijun shrieked in rage despite being in the middle of a body scissor hold courtesy of his second-year roommate. How dare Emi hang up on him?! And she was probably ignoring him too before Kuramochi hit him with a surprise dropkick!

(Really, Eijun should've expected as much considering how annoyed Emi had been with him since the start of the school year.)

"Mercy, Kura-Kuramochi- _senpai_! Mer-Mer-Mercy! _Please_!"

Kuramochi let out his signature shrieking laughter, finally loosening up his hold once the first-year began to smack any surface he could reach to signify that he wanted to tap out. To be honest, the shortstop would've continued but the idiot's face had started to take on a distinct if not morbidly pretty blue shade. Though, if he were being totally and completely honest, Kuramochi was a little more than tempted to continue choking the first-year out—as in _out_.

Eijun wheezed, sucking in as much air as he could while all the while sending prayers to every deity he could think of in sincere thanks.

"Yahaha!" Kuramochi nudged the pitcher non-too gently with his toe, "Hope you've learned your lesson, Sawamura!"

(Eijun sorely wondered what he did to deserve having _senpai_ like this... In her room, Emi felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction—like she'd gotten revenge or some cliché shit like that.)

— **[ + ] —**

[To: Chris]

[Subject: Idiot]

 _He's really... energetic? about making it up to you_.

Emi debated whether or not sending the text to Chris was necessary, her thumb hovering over the send icon. The third-year would know first-hand by now how excitable her cousin was when put to the task—if the task was something he wanted. She sighed, not fighting the desire to bury her head in her arms, face pressed into cotton sheets, letting her phone to drop and bounce minutely on her mattress without a care.

"Emi- _chan_?" Emi peeked out to look at her mother, the older woman peeking out from behind her daughter's door. A decidedly worried frown was on her face. "Are you okay?"

Emi just sighed and buried her head deeper into her arms. "It's just Eijun."

Eiko adopted an expression of understanding, opting to open her daughter's door a bit more so she could lean against the door frame. "All over the place?"

"More than," Emi sniped, voice muffled by cloth and her appendages. "How do I phrase 'watch out for my idiotic, chivalrous cousin' to a guy and be polite about it?"

"Do you, perhaps, have a crush on this guy and you want to warn him of Ei _-chan?"_

Emi didn't bother to hide her blank look of annoyance as she stared at her mother. The Nakano matriarch raised her hands in surrender, chuckling as she did so. Her daughter harrumphed and looked away.

"I wouldn't warn you against having a crush on anyone, Emi- _chan,"_ her mother continued to tease. "It's not cheating anymore."

" _Kaa-san_." Emiri definitely was not amused. "Drop it. Thanks."

"Don't use that tone with me."

Emi gave her mother the stink-eye, not backing down against her mother's stern motherly look that all proper mothers had learned to master. Could her parents not bring Shōichi into everything? They had literally been bringing the bespectacled teen into every conversation in one way or another ever since their break-up mid-March. The girl understood, better than anyone, how important Shōichi was to her aside being her newly minted ex-boyfriend and as much as it hurt to be a part of his life, she couldn't cut him off that easily.

She hated some aspects of him but Shōichi was undoubtedly one of the most important persons in her life.

(She didn't appreciate what her parents were trying to do in the guise of babysitting her cousin.)

Still, Nakano Eiko, formerly known as Sawamura Eiko or the Second Coming of Sawamura Eitoku, was stubborn—which was pretty much genetic—and wasn't keen on backing down any time soon.

So, Emiri decided to pull out the biggest gun in her arsenal.

" _Tou-san, Kaa-san_ is trying to set me up with a boy!"

Eiko sucked in a breath as a _crash_ sounded amongst cursing and the sound of something fragile shattering.

" _What_?! EIKO!"

(Her father's selective misandry was always amusing to toy with.)

— **[ + ] —**

Per usual, Emi strutted into Eijun's classroom like she owned the fucking school. An air of regality about her as she oh-so-casually flipped some of her hair over her shoulder—

And where the fuck was Eijun.

No. _Seriously_.

Where the _fuck_ was her cousin?!

A shiver ran up Emi's spine and the girl jolted.

...He was doing something _stupid_ wasn't he?

"Oi," Emi snapped, calling all the lounging first-years to attention. Her expression of death wasn't doing her favours in terms of niceness but her _kohai_ eagerly responded with a nervous energy that helped reign in her temper just the tiniest bit. "Where's Eijun?"

A mahogany-haired girl—the manager from before, her mind matched the faces—lifted a shaking finger to point at the door and stuttered, "He-He l-le-left as soon-soon as the bell ra-ra-rang. I thi-think he was hea-head-headed to-to the thi-th-third-years' floor."

 _Shit._

She knew exactly what her cousin was doing now.

Thanking the first-year as politely as she could, her inner fiery, fiendish demon screaming in rage, Emi gunned down the hallway and blitzed up the stairs with a speed that would've put any Olympic sprinter to shame. Her lungs burned and her legs groaned because this bitch was _not_ made for running at an athlete's speed.

 _Ugh_.

She was going to punch Eijun really _fucking_ hard as soon as she got her hands around his chicken-shit neck.

To make matters worse, when she got to the third-years' floor, the hallway was clogged due to _someone_ —some _idiot_ —making a commotion.

 _Bloody. Fucking. Eijun_.

She could hear Chris's cool, calm monotone lightly lecturing her cousin and—dear _God_ , was he kneeling? In the middle of the hallway?! Pure, hot embarrassment stormed through her veins, a bright, angry flush tinting her skin as Emiri pushed her way through the conglomerate as politely as she could. At the moment, the golden-haired girl wished she did die when she fell off that cliff on the beach when they'd been kids. Screw Eijun's mental stability if she had died then, her sanity at the moment was _this_ close to snapping like raw spaghetti and thus letting loose a mass-murdering psycho.

A mass-murdering psycho that would probably hunt down any and every person that resembled her dunce of a cousin.

Chris was reaching his breaking point, pushing down all the second-hand embarrassment he was currently feeling because of a certain first-year, when Emiri swooped in like a literal angel of death.

 _Shinigami_ was a more than fitting description of the girl at the moment seeing as her face was horrifyingly, terrifyingly blank but her eyes screeched bloody murder.

" _Sumimasen_ , _senpai-tachi_ "—her tone was oh-so-polite but oh-so-deadly—"please forgive this idiot here."

Chris was sure he wasn't the only one who winced when the girl practically snapped Sawamura's head into a bow before hauling the boy up with a strength _nobody_ expected from such a small girl and down the hallway. The third-years easily parted for the cousins, seeing as Emi's face screamed that was ready to stab _anyone_ , and the fact she muttering obscenities and scenarios of imminent torture and death that were a little too graphic—leading some to question the girl's innocence. The boy in her grasp wasn't doing well to quell the heated whispers considering he was flailing around like a lunatic and was pleading for mercy and _please don't kill me_ because _I'm not the ace yet_!

...Chris had to shake his head. Typical Sawamura.

He sighed, long-sufferingly, and turned around, determined to continue his day as if that interruption totally hadn't occurred. Because it didn't.

Still, he couldn't help but stuff a laugh into his fist at the remarks around him.

"He's _whipped_."

"You can tell who wears the pants in that relationship."

"Maybe they should switch uniforms."

"Lucky bastard—landing an _older_ girlfriend _that_ cute as a first-year?"

(The two cousins were fun to have around, more so the elder rather than the younger.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri didn't stop hauling her cousin by the collar until they were at the rooftop, at the point she quite literally flung him over her shoulder like a sack or apples and watched with morbid delight as tumbled.

Eijun, of course, glared at her indignantly.

Emi, of course, wasn't having any of his shit.

...Considering he was an athlete an all—a baseball player at that—the girl truly expected him to have dodged the shoe she had flung off her foot with a kick, caught in her hand, and then whipped at his "precious" head. If she thought about, Eijun really should have been able to catch her shoe, or at the very least caught it. She didn't know much about baseball in general, but she knew for a fact that the ball came at you faster than a shoe thrown by a girl with flimsy arms and not possessing an ounce of muscle.

Especially if the ball was pitched at you.

Well, in your general vicinity, Emi amended.

(Eijun was a hopeless case; it was a miracle Chris hadn't called it quits.)

The pitcher in question rubbed at his red face, shoe unceremoniously laying in his lap, as he glared at her petulantly like a child would at his mother. Emi would know that look anywhere, that expression immortalized in the dozens of photo albums dedicated to her childhood.

Emi extended her right hand expectantly, curling her fingers in a 'come hither' gesture. "Give me my shoe."

Eijun crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away.

"...Give. _Me_."

With her shoe back on, Emi slipped into a comfortable sitting beside her cousin—who was still throwing a fit—and pulled out two packages of _anpan_. Eijun was still refusing to look at her, so she ripped a a package open, set into her lap and started picking at it like a bird and then proceeded to slam the unopened _anpan_ into the back of her cousin's head with all the force of a bullet train.

"Emi!"

The girl ignored her cousin's outburst, which was quickly becoming a regular occurrence, and continued to pick at the bread in hand. She wasn't particularly hungry but at the same time, she needed to eat. Still, Emiri could live without breakfast and/or lunch depending on her mood as long as she was able to eat dinner and dessert.

(Idly, Emi noted that the idiot was dropping the – _nee_ honorific more and more these days, especially around his teammates—was that why Chris had asked if the she was his girlfriend?)

But then again, her eating habits were apparently the reason she was getting chubbier around her stomach and upper arms. It wasn't like the girl was unhappy about the weight gain, her weight fluctuated a lot ever since she quit competitive dancing, but she wasn't quite use to the little bits of flesh that poked out more.

With a sideways glance at Eijun, Emi decided that it was probably best she was gaining weight since her conversations with Chris were more than a little lengthy considering how well the two knew each other—which was more or less acquaintances.

Eijun was too much of handful so she needed all the excess energy she could spare.

Which probably meant she needed to eat better too.

And sleep more, amongst other things.

(She wasn't the healthiest person around, but did could you really expect her to be the healthiest person around when she spent at least half her childhood in some kind of medical facility?)

"You know," Emi started, pulling her cousin away from his internal frustrations at her ignoring him. "What you're doing is okay..."

"Okay...?"

" _Un_. Okay," Emi reaffirmed, "But I think Chris- _senpai_ wouldappreciate it more if you take his lessons to heart."

He blinked. "Lessons?"

' _Please be fucking with me_ ,' Emi chanted in her mind—a phrase that was beginning to become her personal mantra. 'Please _be fucking with me_.'

"Does he not teach you to, you know, be a better pitcher...?"

Yeah—nothing. _Nothing_.

Her cousin just continued to stare at her blankly as if she'd grown a second head.

' _Am_ I _the stupid one_?' Emi had to wonder, her confidence trembling as she did so.

Admittedly, the girl wasn't the sharpest knife in the kitchen, but she knew her study habits well and a cultivated creative mind helped keep her slightly above average. She knew she had trouble focusing on more than one topic at a time so she didn't cram it all at once but in three if not two days. Having an obscenely colourful notebooks and making a habit of re-writing notes helped her retain enough material. Emiri also liked to think having a creative mind helped her come up with some pretty interesting solutions and her need for perfection also forced her to re-examine her work to make sure she was doing that shit correctly.

(She _loathed_ fucking up—especially considering her last one ended up with her breaking up with her boyfriend of nearly four years.)

She wasn't like Shōichi, an unmarked genius, who really didn't need to study but did so to make his peers uncomfortable. He was the _ultimate_ asshole—if there was a video game for fighting assholes, Shōichi would be the asshole you needed to beat on the Boss Level.

Despite her ex-boyfriend's sharp tongue and all-around horrible personality to just about everyone—except her, her mind supplied—he called her smart amongst a whole cacophony of other positive adjectives.

(Shōichi really had loved her crazy, needy ass.)

Shōichi may have been an asshole, but he wasn't a lying asshole.

"Look, Eijun," Emi rain her hands through her hair, not exactly knowing how to handle her cousin's situation. She was the farthest thing from an athlete and Eijun didn't think the way she did. Hence, they had a lot of communication barriers to break through. "Chris- _senpai_ is trying to teach you something, right?"

The pitcher nodded his head.

"I know I—well, everyone—calls you stupid—do _not_ fucking interrupt me—but you're not... _brainless_. You have a brain, it's just... you don't use it all the time...?"

...Was it a good or bad thing that he was nodding along to her words?

Because Emiri didn't even understand the gist of what she was trying to say—all the girl knew was that she was trying her damnedest to succinctly explain to her cousin in the easiest way possible that Chris obviously had a long-term goal for him and was trying to get him to self-examine himself _but_ also in way that wouldn't incite another outburst from her cousin.

(She needed to start stocking up on aspirin.)

"And what I think," Emi gestured to herself, continuing to speak slowly, "is that he wants you to learn something."

"'Something?!'" ' _Shit.' "_ What is 'something?!'"

' _I wouldn't fucking know—do I look like a baseball player to you_?'

"I'm not sure," Emi chose instead, waving her hands to placate her cousin from moving. She _really_ couldn't drag him back down again; she didn't have the energy anymore, it was all used up. "But he's your mentor, right? And it's really obvious that he's building you, physically, up as a player for something—he gives you those training menus which are probably tailored _just for you_."

Eijun nodded sagely, his chin balanced on his fist, and gaze somewhere else. "So... You're saying I have to learn more about baseball?"

 _What_.

The golden-eyed girl didn't know what her face said but either way, Eijun's excitable reaction wouldn't tell her anything. Emi couldn't help but feel a foreboding sense of doom as an uncharacteristic gleam overtook her cousin's eyes and he began to mutter to himself rapidly.

He... He completely misunderstood her, didn't he?

Emiri buried her face in her hands, automatically nodding when her cousin politely and exuberantly asked if she could buy him some blank notebooks from the convenient store nearby and drop it off at his dorm room while he was at practice.

"Emi- _nee_ , are you okay?"

The girl in question waved off her cousin's concern, wallowing in the feeling that something horribly stupid was going to happen and she probably wouldn't be there to stop it.

"I am so sorry, Chris- _senpai_."

" _Eh_? Did you say something, Emi- _nee_?"

— **[ + ] —**

When Emi got to school, she hadn't expected being cornered by her cousin first thing in the morning. Like always, she had been savouring each and every moment of her time away from her cousin, politely greeting a usually scarlet Kawakami when he entered and simply _relaxed_.

Unfortunately, Eijun had decided to be more of a nuisance today than usual.

"EMI!"

"Motherfucker."

The girl felt entitled to her reaction considering her cousin had just barged into her classroom—not his classroom, and also the classroom of many _senpai_ —and practically screamed her name for the universe to hear.

 _She was going to hit him so fucking hard._

The boy completely ignored Emi's blatant glaring and the bewildered if not slightly jealous stare of the second-year pitcher who was witnessing the commotion. The first-year pitcher slammed his hands down onto his cousin's desk, the furniture trembling with his roughness, and the girl in question straightened in her seat and then lazily flopped her front onto her desk.

"What do you want."

"Emi," Eijun gasped, out of breath, "What're my distinctive qualities?!"

"'Distinctive qualities?'" Emi wrinkled her nose and looked up at her cousin through narrowed eyes. Those _definitely_ weren't his own words. "Since when did you use such words?"

"Just answer the question!"

"You're a dumbass?"

"I'm being serious!"

"I don't know, I don't care and I don't give a _fuck_ ," Emi listed, "Get out."

" _O-Oi_! You're supposed to help me! I thought you loved me!" Eijun cried, gesticulating emotionally while fat crocodile tears ran down his face.

"Well my love for you is currently off the clock," Emi snipped, "Come back when she's working the counter. She never checks in early." ' _And she might just check in late today_ ,' she silently added.

Her younger cousin harrumphed and started a whole new rant about if she loved him, she would help him and all that lovey-dovey bullshit. Emi's thoughts were currently circulating one word over and over again, her patience dwindling from 'I need sugar' to 'I am going to _stab_ someone.'

' _Bitch._ '

Poor Kawakami in the background was currently thinking the worst of the relationship between his totally not-crush and the first-year considering their familiarity and Eijun's constant usage of love for reasoning. The girl's peer totally didn't feel an odd sense of satisfaction without the slightest bit of pity when said girl chucked a notebook at the first-year's face and hit him dead on.

"Shut up and get out! I need Eijun-Free Free Time! And so does Chris- _senpai_!"

The first-year pitcher clutched his face, nearly crushing the notebook with one hand. "You hit me! This is _abuse_! And you're not allowed to have Me Free Time!"

"Spell abuse! Figure your shit out yourself and _leave_!"

"A—B—U—!"

"If you're smart enough to spell, you're smart enough to think for yourself," Emi seethed, plowing her cousin out the door despite the latter's attempt to stop the movement by digging his heels into the ground. Sadly, Eijun's attempts were worthless in the face of his older cousin's determination to be free of him. "Write it down and brood until you're as old as _Jii-chan_ for all I care!"

"Wait, so I can keep the notebo— _ITAI_!"

Despite the violence, Kawakami couldn't help but feel jealous of the first-year for being so close to Nakano and being able to elicit such passionate reactions from the girl who was usually brooding in class. But that didn't stop the blossom of warmth he felt when Emi stepped back into the class, fiddling with her disarrayed strands of hair and smiled at him warmly.

The girl patted his arm gently as an apology. "Sorry, Kawakami... Eijun's a handful."

"It looks like it," he managed, finding his voice and not stuttering. Emi gifted him a _beautiful_ smile in return.

 _Victory!_

" _Wait."_

Kawakami froze at the girl's deadly whisper, her face going blank and an overwhelming look of doom in her eyes. "Did he take the notebook I slam dunked into his face."

Blinking once, then twice, the pitcher cautiously nodded and the girl's features melted into sheer annoyance and resignation as she got up once more, groaning with her hands set on her hips. The closest image Kawakami could think of that matcher her current expression was the one that the _senpai_ had worn during last year's Pre-Summer Training Camp.

(Which reminded him... That _Hell_ was coming up soon.)

"EIJUN! Get back _here_! I bought you some notebooks yesterday—there were like six of them! Why do you need another one?"

And with that, the girl disappeared around the door's frame, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she dashed after her cousin—who was speedily retreating, the notebook clutched to his chest tightly.

(Kawakami swore he heard her voice ring out and say, "I'm not your Sugar Mommy!")

— **[ + ] —**

...Eijun was not in his class during lunch. _Again_.

" _Oi_."

"H-Ha _-Hai_?!"

" _Where is he_."

Haruno, her entire form trembling as she tried to somehow make herself smaller, jabbed a finger in the direction of the other first-year classroom. "He-He went th-that w-w-wa-way."

With a muttered thanks, Emi strode down the first-years' hallway with purpose, not wanting a repeat of what had happened the day before. It actually bothered Emiri a lot that her cousin wasn't sleeping in class—it was a bad habit yes, but it was a habit nonetheless meaning it was _predictable_. While she admired people who were able to break the "mold," so to speak, the fact that her cousin was breaking a habit he had since grade school _two_ days in a row just spoke about how involved his mind was in this whole "Chris Dilemma" as she'd taken to call it.

And when the idiot used his head, he only _fucked_ shit up.

"—we'll be the two that go the first string!"

" _You_ —!"

" _Geh_!"

"Stop bothering people! Especially Kominato!"

"Harucchi!" Eijun wailed, clawing at air as if by some miracle Emi would release him. Crocodile tears ran down his face as his "passion" overflowed.

The pink-haired boy broke out of his reverie and politely waved at the unlikely duo.

"Harucchi—!"

— **[ + ] —**

"I am so fucking tired," Emiri whined, her words stretching out as she yawned. The girl threw one of her arms back, using her free hand to grab her elbow and push her arm down in a stretch. She repeated with her other arm then clasped her hands behind her back and pushed her chest forward.

Emi had basically spent the week chasing after her cousin and trying to prevent him from doing any more damage with his stupidity. She'd even recruited Kominato into her cause, bribing and also rewarding the boy with a batch of sugar cookies, though her cousin was eager to shake the meek boy off. It wasn't that Haruichi was a pushover, it was just that Eijun was too much of a handful that a hard time taking "no" for an answer if it didn't come from people he saw as his betters—which meant some particularly scary _senpai_ or his older cousins.

(It sucked _ass_ being the family's baby.)

Still, Emiri appreciated the effort he'd been putting in lately to try—he hadn't texted _or_ called her ever since that night she'd sort of met his roommates... roommate.

It wasn't much, but it meant something.

( _Right_?)

So, despite it being a Saturday and thus the designated Eijun-Free Day, Emi was at Seidō, wearing an outfit that really wasn't her uniform and trying to hold back from yawning so much because Eijun was debuting as a pitcher for the second string.

She knew she wasn't the best cousin to have around—Emi was headstrong, unapologetically stubborn and blunt, and she really didn't appreciate tom foolery that wasted time but she was _supportive_.

( _Fuck_ what Shōichi said.)

Though she had told Eijun to quit, she had done so to shove her cousin in the direction of thinking of people other than himself. The pitcher was a caring, considerate moron, but he could be self-absorbed and blind to the needs and motivations of other people when his attention was elsewhere.

Emiri stifled another yawn with her palm, rocking a bit from side to side in her skinny jeans. The golden-eyed girl knew that it went unsaid that you supported your school by wearing your uniform, but she really didn't want to get paged by Kataoka—she hated people touching her head—and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to be associated with the team that had her cousin as a starting pitcher. He was trying, and that's all she really could ask for, but trying didn't necessarily mean improvement.

And she was proven right when her cousin did exactly what she expected.

He fucked up.

 _Royally_.

Emi slid her hands over her face, her head practically between her knees.

"Eijun, you fucking moron!"

Over in the dugout, Rei flinched at the enraged screech from the Seidō crowd, Chris, sitting on one of the benches behind her, coughed into his hand at the familiar voice that he was steadily becoming accustomed to hearing daily.

"That's right! SAWAMURA, get off the mound!"

Chris glanced at his phone as it vibrated in his bag. Casting a quick glance at Rei, the catcher discretely snatched his cellphone, turning it on and having to choke back the full-blown laugh on his lips at the message.

[From: Nakano Emiri]

[Subject: Idiot]

 _I am so sorry_.

It was nice to now she was feeling the exact same way he did.

At once, though from different angles and places, Emi and Chris looked up to stare at the pitcher they'd both been working so hard on to improve. As one, they sighed at the disgruntled pout that Eijun donned and shook their heads with begrudging fondness.

' _He still has a lot more to work on.'_

[From: Nakano Emiri]

[Subject: Idiot]

 _Can I steal him?_

— **[ + ] —**

"Right," Emi slid into a cross-legged position on the floor, "Let me see the notebooks I bought you."

Eijun glared petulantly, hunching in on himself as he glared from his desk chair. At Chris' affirmative, Emiri had knocked on the dugout door and snatched her cousin by the collar, forcing him to lead her to his dorm room. She probably wasn't allowed to be there but both she and Chris had bigger problems than a broken rule—besides, Emi was pretty sure she wasn't the only girl that had been inside the Spirit Dorms without express permission.

"Give. _Me_."

With the same expression on his face, Eijun turned and snatched the notebook he'd been using for studying baseball and begrudgingly extended it toward his older cousin. Emiri, brow raised and unimpressed, snatched out of his hand, almost giving the boy a paper cut which she kind of wanted to do.

Staring at the pitcher for a second longer, the girl turned her molten gaze to the bound paper, carefully examining the used pages and stopping every so often.

Eijun couldn't help but feel like he was getting graded... And failing.

With a flick of her wrist, Emi snapped the notebook shut, the pages flapping, and stared at her cousin blankly.

She really wasn't impressed.

"What the ever-loving fuck is this?"

"My study notes!"

" _You_? S _tudy_?" Emi repeated incredulously, raising both eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "That's not funny."

"Emi!" Eijun cried, offended, but his shout was muffled by the very same notebook Emiri had been assessing a moment earlier.

"Give me a blank one—thanks." Emi threaded her fingers together and bent them backwards, satisfied at the popping sound they made. "Ruler? And hand me a pen and a pencil."

Eijun obeyed dutifully, an odd gleam in his eye while his brows scrunched together. He didn't understand what Emi was exactly doing, the girl now sitting more comfortably on her haunches as she flipped open both notebooks, used and blank, and lay them side by side.

" _This_ is how I want you to model your notes from now on," Emi gestured, beginning to pencil in lines with the pencil and adding headers to the sections with the pen. "Start with positions. There should be at least one page—front and back—on each position. Title goes on top, and then have a short description of the player; don't make it more than say three bullet points. Short and sweet but make sure you understand. No fun facts. Just what you need.

"Now, there's a lot of space left over right? Instead of filling the page with words like you were doing previously, I want you to draw a rough sketch of the baseball diamond and have little icons for the bases and where each of the nine players go. Nothing fancy—a square for the bases, lines for the foul lines and maybe circle-triangle thing for each player. Whatever you want. Then you highlight the position of the player this page is about."

Emi looked up from her rough template, satisfied by the look of concentration on her cousin's face.

"If you have some space left, note down some of the plays that the player typically takes part in. And on the back of the page"—here, Emi flipped to the back of the page she'd been working on— "I want you to write down observations but make them _short_. A sentence or two if you really need to. Try and write a question for each observation _if_ you can. _Baseball-related_. If you can't answer the question yourself, _ask_. But, try to keep answers on sticky notes so you keep them separate from the actual questions and observations."

Eijun blinked, "But why?"

"Because," Emi smiled cryptically, a gleam in her eye he hadn't seen before. "You should know the answers to most of the questions once you're a starter—everyone has to know what they need to, what's expected of them and what to expect of others. Ace or not, baseball is a team sport."

...Why was he staring at her in awe?

"Emi- _nee_! You _do_ love me!"

Emiri snapped her leg out, her hip aching with the speed, and dug her foot into Eijun's face. She wasn't in the mood for a hug from the blubbering fuck up.

"Shut _up_ … Now, moving on to more specific sections."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Tell me why this chapter is 6.5 K plus and I only have 1.5 K for my essay. Guess I know where my priorities are. On another note, a "Yamato Nadeshiko" is, as far as my understanding and research goes, a term used that essentially means "ideal Japanese woman." Correct me if I'm wrong. Also, Kaguya- _hime_ or Princess Kaguya is a character from the Japanese folktale, "The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter," and is a celestial maiden. **


	8. Chapter VIII — A String of Those Days

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction._**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII — A String of those Days**

* * *

 _Sometimes you have one of those days where you don't want to get out of bed at all._

.

.

.

Emiri knew she would meet Eijun's roommates eventually—her cousin was _the_ Sawamura Eijun—but she didn't think their meeting would end up quite like this...

By this she meant, to be completely accurate without cutting corners, a _shitfest_.

Emi's little tutoring session had gone relatively well. After showing her cousin note taking layout that she knew would help him—since he was about eighty percent kinesthetic and twenty percent visual—the girl had then gone through his pre-existing notes of just about everything he could get his hands on about baseball.

Admittedly, they were interesting... in a sense.

(Maybe if she wasn't nursing half a migraine and valiantly trying not to turn off her ears she'd appreciate it more? Maybe?)

But the dark-haired girl smiled and braved through it. She already felt bad she wasn't able to control her cousin very much, leading to problems to Chris and the baseball team's higher-ups, and that whole misunderstanding that other day. Emi knew that her friends would tell her to focus on herself more, to consider her mental and emotional health post-break-up, but focusing on Eijun was helping her.

A bit.

It was stressful as _fuck_ but when she was focusing on Eijun, she was _focusing_ on Eijun.

So, despite the throbbing behind her temple, the ache of her throat, and the pull of gravity on her eyelids, Emi tried to patiently, patiently, _patiently_ show Eijun a good, clean, effective way of note taking. On the plus side, showing him how to do this now, when the season wasn't in full swing and exam season was a distant dream, would save her time during the actual exam season.

 _Hopefully_.

(God knows that Eijun would need a tutor that, well, understood Eijun-ese. Eijun-ish?)

Still, as it had always been since Eijun could little more than crawl, Emiri found herself hitting him.

After the initial kick to his face, he had calmed down some but had quickly gotten enthused when they started making short profiles for what each position was actually supposed to. In the middle of Emiri's instructions he'd start gesticulating, waving his hands in throwing and catching motions, and spit fact after fact.

Like, "Oh, Emi-nee, did you know that the Japanese word for shortstop was coined my Masaoka Shiki?!" with a gleam in his eye like a kid in a candy store.

Emiri would hum, eyebrow twitching all the while, and tried to resume her explanation while fighting the urge to brain him. The fact that she was generally stiff and was becoming a _very_ twitchy person didn't help her fraying nerves at all.

' _Calm. Be calm. Calm.'_

Finally, Eijun had settled down some and was now scrawling across the notebook's pages with renewed purpose in that messy scrawl of his. Emi rolled She remembered to breathe and pressed the pads of her fingers together in an effort to cease the jittering. Her lips twisted in annoyance when she could _not_ stop trembling and she resorted to pulling her phone out in an annoyed flourish.

The screen lit up, almost dim under the bright lights of the dorm room. Her background picture still jarred her a bit, so used to seeing that familiar face of his—his angular jaw, dark hair and sly features—taking front and centre on her phone screen. Sometimes she'd pause and the errant thought that she picked up the wrong phone flashed across her mind.

But this time, it wasn't the different background—a generic, boring thing—that made worry pulse down her limbs.

It was the date.

May 29th, 20XX was written in a finer print than the current time.

' _Three more days_.'

"—Emi- _nee_?"

" _Shut the fuck up_."

"What did I do?!"

And it was that, really, that both Kuramochi and Masuko shouldered the door open cautiously and found the two cousins in a heated, one-sided debate that involved Emiri half straddling her cousin's lap and trying to choke him with one hand while Eijun had a deathly fearful grip on her other and was valiantly trying to keep himself upright despite his blueing face.

Kuramochi was doing a rather impressive fish-mouthed stone statue impersonation while the third year simple shook his head disapprovingly.

In other words, Emi's peer was questioning his _kohai's_ tastes and Masuko was just... done.

Suffice to say after Emiri had finally noticed their presence and had heatedly and primly apologized, shouldered her way between them with an aggressive strut and a permanent-looking scowl, Eijun's roommates didn't really know what to make of the two cousins.

Well, _couple_ in their minds.

On one hand, their relationship looked abusive on the other hand, they certainly had pulled the same tactics on the first-year themselves...

But the question was, did they really care about Eijun enough at this point?

(In all fairness, it _was_ a good question.)

— **[ + ] —**

[To: Shōichi]

[Subject: June 3rd]

 _Happy Birthday Shōichi! You're officially an adult!_ ("⌒∇⌒")

Her thumb hovered over the send button painfully long, her shoulder sagging heavily against her. She didn't want to get up anymore.

Emi didn't want to get up anymore, she wanted to crawl under the covers—even though it was hotter than ass outside—she wanted to bury her face into the pillow until it was uncomfortably warm, she wanted to...

She wanted to do nothing and everything all at once.

She didn't know what she wanted to do and it made her head hurt so fucking much.

But she did know one thing and it only made her wonder.

Why did it hurt so much not typing out _I love you_?

They were still friends and they still _cared_.

(She adored how he would drawl the syllables of his of his declaration of affection for her and her name out all at once, his lips curving upwards in a small, brilliant, _beautiful_ smile.)

— **[ + ] —**

"Ah, Chris- _senpai,_ wait up!"

A small, warm smile bloomed across the third-year catcher's face at the sound of the familiar voice. The girl in question slowed her jog until she matched Chris' slow, leisurely gait out of the school grounds.

"Shouldn't you be home by now, Nakano?"

"Emi," the golden-eyed girl corrected automatically, "And it was my turn to clean classroom with a couple other classmates. It took longer than necessary since one skipped and the sports' committee meeting lasted longer than usual."

Sports' committee?

Chris raised a brow. "You're an athlete?"

In hindsight, he hadn't seen the girl—this being their second true meeting in person—because they often exchanged conversation over the phone so he hadn't really had time to observe her. And even if he did so now, in the limited amount of they had, it would come off as a bit more than creepy.

"Never could be," Emiri snorted, batting a hand in the air as if to knock away his question. "My balance is horrible and despite my attitude and strength—it's all adrenaline—I'm actually pretty weak. Sick kid. And believe it or not, I'm prone to migraines."

…Chris wasn't sure being prone to migraines was particularly healthy considering who exactly her cousin was.

Emi sniggered at Chris' incredulous expression. "Yeah... It's a pain in the ass being around Eijun so I turn my ears off."

"I wish," Chris muttered.

Emi nearly grinned at the subdued expression of annoyance on the third year's face. Despite the rather cold interactions at the beginning of Chris' and Eijun's partnership, the two were becoming fond of each other—though this was large part due to the fact that Eijun wasn't being so much of ass as he'd been previously.

"Anyways, about the committee thing, it's mostly run by athletes, a lot of vice-captains there and former athletes, but I use to be a manager for my school's basketball team."

Emi actually envied the fact that athletes were all but exempted from taking part in a committee. It wasn't that regular students had to be in committees—it wasn't mandatory—it was just strongly advised. The athletic students on the other end of the spectrum were given more leniencies, so long as they had a single representative for each club or team, to clock in as much training and practice hours they could.

"Manager?" Chris repeated, and Emi all but flinched out of her thought process. "Is that what you stole Sawamura for? The notebooks I mean."

Emi almost winced at the tone of Chris' voice, it wasn't so much frightening or accusing, it was just that the strange lilt that his voice had adopted was somewhat off putting. "Don't tell me he's been bothering people... I'll brain him, I swear."

The catcher shook his head minutely. "No, the progress he's been making is good. He's thinking, not just about pitching but plays as well. It's surprising considering he doesn't appear to be the studious type."

"He's the farthest fucking thing from studious," Emiri deadpanned, expression falling. "I almost made him cry yesterday and I don't know why but his roommate keeps on blushing when he sees him."

Chris arched a thick brow, turning his head to look down at the girl who wore a mildly confused expression on her face.

"Actually... Given the position I had Eijun in, I may or may not have flashed him..."

...The third-year was sure he wasn't supposed to hear that, but more importantly, he felt that she was being frightfully calm for someone he knew had a temper that rivalled his peer, Seidō's regular centre fielder.

Emiri shrugged, completely dismissing her earlier spiel. "Anyways, I heard you guys have another game this Sunday?"

Odd.

Most people only knew of when the first-string had practice games though the second-string's games did have an audience, said audience was usually comprised of several alumni and long-time fans of the team that really didn't anything better to do.

His confusion must have been evident on his face because Emi had just graced him with a knowing look; a soft smile tilting the girl's lips the slightest bit upwards. "I asked your coach."

The catcher's brows rose high.

Not many people would willingly talk to Coach Kataoka outside of the baseball team. It was partially the man's fault with his intimidating persona as well as his no nonsense attitude that quelled any sort of troublemaking within his hearing distance. Even some teachers that had long been at Seidō, and thus had taught the terrifying then teen, were wary of getting on his nerves. It wasn't that the coach was disrespectful, far from that, it was just that Coach Kataoka was the textbook definition of intimidating.

(Chris remembered one of year mates and fellow teammate nearly pissing themselves when they first made eye contact with the coach.)

Emi rolled her eyes at Chris' reaction.

She didn't find her Shin- _nii_ at all intimidating—annoying, fuck yes but intimidating?

Emiri nearly snorted.

"It's against... Kodan?"

"Kokodokan," Chris corrected patiently, his reply a little late due to his confusion.

"From East Tokyo, right?" Emi hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "Are they a powerhouse team?"

"They do pretty well each year."

"So is the scrimmage like a pseudo-scout thing or?"

"We don't face them this tournament at all, only in the fall."

Emi paused, her features scrunching together as she gave Chris a vaguely startled vaguely confused expression. "What? Are they ineligible to compete this summer?"

It was Chris's turn to furrow his brow in confusion, his gait stopping as well. "In the summer East and West Tokyo are split up but the division isn't applied in the fall."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Chris chuckled quietly, following after the grumbling girl as she meandered her way past the school gates. Her pinched expression of annoyance was somewhat contemplative as she mulled over his words.

"You know, in basketball," Emi started after several quiet moments. "There's no division like that. For the Tokyo prefecture, schools are randomly organized into four blocks and then the top four—the winners from each block—compete in a round robin tournament to decide the strongest three."

"They're three representatives?" That was different. "For each tournament?"

"Yeah..." Emi drawled her confirmation, although a bit distracted—her eyes were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There was an odd sort of relaxed, calm energy about her that felt like it would snap and she'd go into a frenzy over something.

She was... jittery, to say in the least.

It was bemusing, Chris mused quietly in the recesses of his mind. He never did take her as the jittery type or one to ramble on.

"It's the same for football—I thought it was like that for every sport," Emi said in a much softer tone, fingers twisting at the ends of her sleeves.

Chris stared at her for a moment, hazel eyes growing colder for as he turned his gaze back to the tedious path before.

(He wished it was like that.)

Emi didn't bother with any more pleasant conversation and while Chris wouldn't have her informative rambling, he needed the silence too.

(Emi needed to breathe.)

— **[ + ] —**

Eijun had been doing a good job—Emiri would say that confidently. Sure, his academics were a little subpar but her cousin had really taken her scolding and patient tutoring of him to heart and had, as far as she'd heard from Chris, been diligently practicing and observing. The coach had also been in a better mood too—seeing as the drama between the third-year catcher and first-year pitcher having affected pretty much everyone who was any one on the team.

The point was, Eijun had been doing so bloody damn well that Emi was proud of him.

(She wondered if this is what Emiko felt for her "kids.")

The dark-haired girl had even mentioned the change of heart to her parents, much to their shock, their expressions of bewilderment absolute gold in her standards.

And _did_ she have standards.

Emiri had even told their older cousins and both Daichi and Suzume demanded some kind of proof because they did not believe her. Eijun was the Sawamura family's baby, that was for certain—being the youngest grandchild and son of the youngest son. Eijun was bubbly and enthusiastic and passionate about the things he loves—they all were—but being the youngest left him a little scatterbrained when he had three older cousins and a grandfather that all but dictated that they all be a close-knit family.

It was exhausting and annoying and overwhelming in all possible ways and Emi really could blame some of her more nightmarish situations on her family.

Suffice to say, the only artist amongst the four cousins had a very strong love-hate relationship with her cousins—more hate than love on a usual day and a balanced scale on a _very_ good day.

Anyways, both Eijun's change in attitude, Chris' new fondness of the pitcher and Emi's extreme satisfaction and gratitude that she hadn't been overly bothered in more than a week, compelled the girl to attend the Seidō vs Kokodo—Kokodokan?—game that Sunday.

She even did her homework the Saturday night so she wouldn't be so stressed after the game.

Because as much as Eijun had improved dramatically attitude-wise...

The saying was _oiki ha magaranu._

In all honesty, she expected some improvement—mentality was one part, right?—but at the same time she really didn't.

If she was anything, anything at all, at her very core she was a _realist_.

But she didn't expect this... whatever _this_ was...

Because _what the actual bloody fuck_.

"What is he doing?" Emi hissed, fingers half curled in her hair and eyes peeking out between curved fingers. Her hair started to become frizzier and more tangled as she frantically ran her fingers over her face and into her hair. She could almost feel the batter's pain—who was currently half-doubled over in pain and clutching his ass with one hand.

(In all honesty, to Emi, whoever this guy was, he had a really, _really_ niceass.)

The amount of embarrassment she felt right now being related to this fucking moron...

(Was it bad she was fantasizing bashing his head in with a bat? Or that she had the urge to walk in front of a car?)

Emi stiffened, arms flinching closer to herself as the baseball clanged against the fence. She killed the urge in her to fling the camcorder in her hand in response. First of all, that would be a waste of money in regards to the camcorder. Secondly, she had shit on the camcorder she wanted to keep. But most of all, with the fence in the way, there was no way she was going to beat the fucker in the head with it.

The golden-eyed girl looked sullenly at the camcorder, her fingers half-curled firmly around it. She'd brought it and had been recording the incredibly disappointing match thus far as proof for her cousins but well, it was practically worthless now.

In fact, she felt odd having it with her.

She had plenty of memories associated with the damn thing—she had so many memories of doing this in middle school all the way up until the summer of last year. "This" being recording a match. It wasn't baseball then, no, it was basketball. And her role back then was much more... _involved_ than it was now but still.

 _Clang._

Right.

There was a baseball game.

 _She_ was at a baseball game.

(Not at a basketball game.)

The jeers from the audience behind her were enough to tether her to the earth. The opposing team was cheering from their dugout while Seidō's players, both on the field and in the dugout, voiced their complaints loudly. Eijun's face only became more stricken with worry and nervousness and that was saying a lot considering he was the designated sunshine child and was a sizable distance away from her.

The runners were comfortable, relaxed despite being in the middle of a game, and watched her cousin begin his pitching motion anew with a lazy sort of gaze—uncaring.

But Emi cared.

Because she noticed now.

Eijun's pitching form had _changed_.

That in itself was impressive—and she was glad she hadn't turned the camcorder off yet—because athletes were notorious for their habits. It was natural. Habits just showed how comfortable they were with their motions but Eijun had obviously broken his habit, that is, his pitching form.

He no longer swung his leg up almost hastily, bringing his knee to his chest and then swept his long downward all at once with a whip like motion of his arm. Instead, he would bend his knee shallowly, twisting it down sharply and firmly planting it into the mound. His chest now arched almost painfully and his left arm stretched back to be near perpendicular, sweeping his right hand to the side and then _bam_. His left arm would shoot out faster than a whip and seemed to mock her like it'd been there the whole damn time.

To be perfectly honest, it kind of looked painful.

All that pent-up kinetic energy was being shot forward into his arm...

God, she was happy he wasn't pulling at the ground.

And that he was flexible.

And so, Emiri begrudgingly amended her earlier reaction. Eijun was far too tense and the new pitching form probably wasn't helping him at all—he probably felt unnatural, alien in his movements. His flexibility helped him some but considering the sudden whip, she wouldn't be surprised if his shoulder was beginning to ache from the unfamiliar speed.

But that wasn't what she cared about.

"It's _moving_?" Emi hissed, eyes narrowing.

She'd never taken notice before—in fact, she hadn't really paid attention to the actual pitch before, instead closely observing her cousin's wild inconsistent form. Even when he raised his knee high, his form had been inconsistent but this one, so oddly familiar to her, was far from consistent.

Still, not having noticed how her cousin's pitched broke the slightest bit and thus changing the ball's trajectory irked her more than anything.

That was why the catcher hadn't been able to catch it.

The sudden whip... The inconsistencies...

She felt so _fucking_ stupid.

If she'd try catching that shit, not being able to see it properly and not being sure where it'd go?

 _Fuck_ , if she didn't die from being hit full on, she'd probably have a heart attack when it _noomed_ out to who knows where.

(Shōichi probably would know—predictions were his forte.)

"Ball four!"

Emi clicked her tongue, watching the opposing player meander his way to first base. Her cousin had fucked himself into this big problem. Seidō's near always present audience began to murmur amongst themselves even more in displeasure.

(She hated the audience—like _bitch_ , you're not the one who's playing?)

"Get off the mound! Get off the mound! Get off the—!"

"Can you guys just _shut the fuck up_."

Several grown men stood up, faces hardening at Emi's unforgiving snarl. Their faces were displeased, but not as displeased as the golden-eyed girl's. Emiri wasn't intimidating stature-wise, smaller than average and looking delicate, but the way she held herself declared she had no patience, time or interest in dealing with them at the moment.

She was pretty sure she had the attention of the players too, probably the benched ones, but she didn't care.

"You're not playing and even if you were playing, you'd probably royally fucking pissed like I am right now because your booing frankly does jackshit for the athletes."

" _Oi_ , just who do you think—"

"I don't think I'm anyone, I just have the common sense and decency to know what you're doing is shitty," Emi snapped. Idly, she rejoiced in the fact that Kataoka was in the dugout right now because he would've strung her ass up for her…"rudeness." "You don't want to watch a shitty game? _Leave_."

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Emi!"

This son of a bitch… And she just defended him too.

"You do care!"

Emiri felt a blood vessel _pop_. "Shutting the fuck up also applies to you, you dumbass! You're in the middle of a fucking game!"

" _H-Hai_!"

" _Player change_!"

 _What_.

"Catcher! Takigawa for Ono!"

"Oh, _bitch_ ," Emi muttered, eyebrows raised. She obviously wasn't the only one surprised, seeing the range of shocked expressions on the field.

The dark-haired girl couldn't really see the third year from the angle at which he was walking, but there was a regal air about him—charming and deadly. But most importantly he was giving off a vibe that Emi hadn't seen come from him before.

He liked like he was ready to _fight_.

She watched, somewhat impatiently, as they gathered, her eyebrows raising once again at the shaky laughs and exclamations of surprise that the Seidō players let out.

Was... Was Chris being _that_ messy kind of bitch?

When they began to head back towards their respective positions, Emi knew then.

Chris _was_ being _that_ one messy bitch.

 **— [ + ] —**

Emi snickered loudly at the sight of the batter's face—he was _so_ pissed, it was funny to look at. His scowl deepened when he heard Emi's laughter, and he only grew more tense. Emi shook her head, "Dumbass."

He was playing right into Chris' hands.

She almost bit her tongue, though, when Eijun threw another ball and Chris just barely managed to tap it forward to stop the advancing runner, sliding smoothly and languidly into a standing position—his eyes daring the runner forward.

Admittedly, she was impressed by the catcher. He didn't have the stiffness that people usually had going back to doing something—he wasn't shaky, he was bold and precise and perfectly confident in his motions.

You could tell that the third-year had been itching to get back on the diamond for some time—probably doing some form of image training for the time he'd been benched.

Emi followed the catcher's figure as he crouched back down smoothly, eyeing his little shifts before her eyes travelled to her cousin's pitching form. He'd switched back to his new one, now much looser after using his old style, and looking much more confident.

(Why did she have to attract the mind game players?)

 _Clang_.

The ball sped past Eijun's jumping glove, falling perfectly into Haruichi's who whipped it at Chris who sniped it over to the right fielder covering first base.

Emi laughed so hard she had to crouch down to balance herself. "That's so fucking mean. Holy _shit_."

In the catcher's defense, she knew that Seidō needed the outs, but he did the other team so dirty, it was rude. He had baited the clean-up hitter with what looked like an easy ball, but since it was Eijun's stubborn ass who was pitching, the ball was of course much harder to deal with than it looked like.

Chris was _good_ —and far slyer and aggressive than the girl expected.

He sort of reminded her of Shōichi at the moment, but Shōichi was far more sadistic in his plays.

(Didn't she have one of his games still on the camcorder?)

" _H-Hai_ , Chris- _senpai_!"

…And there went her good mood.

 **— [ + ] —**

Why were baseball field so much more complicated than they looked?

For whatever damn reason, Emi had ended up on the other side of where she'd been standing, closer to the little hill instead of the bullpen. Granted, she'd never ventured further than the sideline on her own, only following either Eijun or Chris and didn't pay attention to her surroundings.

This was how she ended up surrounded by a bunch of sweaty baseball players which were probably the first string.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a boy with viridian green hair shuffle further away from her.

...He looked sort of familiar?

"Who're you?"

Emi tilted her head, lips thinning when she looked at the gruff, caramel haired senior who had gruffly asked her who she was. He looked the type to type to be picky about manner considering he was asking who she was instead of ignoring her like the rest of them

That, or he was the only one with balls.

"Nakano Emiri," she answered simply, switching her gaze back to the game.

His dark eyes regarded her intensely for a moment longer before he did the same. "Isashiki Jun. You the one making first-year Kominato—"

"The cupcakes?" Emi interrupted, inwardly snickering at the annoyed click of Isashiki's tongue. "Yeah. Is there another Kominato?"

" _Hai,_ " a honeyed voice sang and Emi cringed.

(He sounded just like Shōichi when the point guard was in one of his moods. Great.)

"I'm his older brother, Kominato Ryōsuke. Any particular reason why you're chasing after my brother so often?"

Oh, was this _bitch_ trying her? Here? _Now_?

(Emi didn't notice the other boys discreetly inching away in fear.)

"Calm the brother complex down would you, he's cute—much cuter than you, anyways—and I like cute." —much cuter than you—and I am a fan of cute."

" _Cougar_."

"Do you get off on him calling you _onii_ — _mmphf_!"

Isashiki had clamped his hand down over Emi's mouth and was warding off Ryōsuke with the—the sign of the cross? The dark-haired girl wasn't going to take the manhandling lying down of course, and bit the bastard for having the balls to put his hand on her face.

His dirty, nasty, _sweaty_ hand. _Ugh._

The centre fielder swore loudly and spouted off some crap about demons and something about going to a temple and sutras. Ryōsuke snickered at his peer's pain, and regarded Emiri with an unreadable gaze. The golden-eyed girl met his half-lidded stare unflinchingly.

Ryōsuke and Emi nodded at each other once before... _calmly_ turning away.

" _Oi,_ what the fuck just happened?"

"How am I supposed to know—?"

" _Holy fucking shit_ ," Emi's swearing immediately silenced everyone, their faces going wide with fear as Chris crashed into the wall.

"He's as reckless and aggressive as ever," Miyuki comment jovially, arms crossed.

"Oh, you're the asshole on the team."

...Kuramochi _wheezed_.

(The shortstop was pretty sure he was going to break a rib from trying not to laugh.)

Miyuki goggled at her, almost flinching at the ice in Emiri's eyes. "...What?"

"I want to transfer out."

"...Okay?"

Miyuki felt offended a bit. Did she mean she was going to transfer out because of him? The catcher knew he was an absolute shitty person—he had a mouth on him for sure—but he wasn't shitty because he was manipulative or abusive or anything like that. Miyuki was brutally honest and favoured facts and stats but he wasn't unfeeling.

He just didn't care if he offended his teammates if it meant improvement.

Other than that, Miyuki was charming.

Besides, he literally met the girl once— _once—_ before and all he'd said was that she was fun.

If they had a manager like her, as sharp tongued as him, it would be both good for the team and fun for him.

(Emi missed Shōichi so much right now—why did Eijun have to join the baseball team?)

The golden-eyed girl's eyes were locked onto the game. It'd been a while since she'd been this invested, almost a year now, if she thought about it. Chris was handling the situation well, almost single-handedly holding down the game if Eijun had actually been able to throw strikes. It was impressive, making use of her cousin's wild ball despite its unpredictability.

One thing bothered her though.

"Why're they bunting so much?"

"To break his—"

"Eijun's rhythm, I guessed that," Emi cut Kuramochi off nonchalantly. "But it's not straining Eijun at all. They still have a hard time hitting a moving ball and he runs a fuckton. The infielders are anticipating everything so maybe they're trying to hit but that's unlikely since they can't get anything clean off his pitch. If anything, it's like they want Chris- _senpai_ to throw more."

That got everyone's attention.

Miyuki eyed her sharply. "Are you trying to say they're targeting Chris- _senpai_ and not Sawamura?"

"Eijun's playing to Chris- _senpai's_ calls, his rhythm, if anything; the bunts are breaking the rhythm Chris- _senpai_ set up. But they're not getting the definite outs anymore so Chris- _senpai_ is throwing more."

When Chris missed the throw to second base, they knew she was right.

" _Fuck_ ," Isashiki summed up their thoughts at the moment. "I thought his shoulder was healed."

"Whoever told Kokodokan to play like this either knows Chris- _senpai_ well or they're good at recon."

"What are you, a spy?" Kuramochi sniped distractedly. He didn't like that Sawamura's girlfriend was getting all her predictions right.

(It was scary.)

Emi paused. Well... "Sort of?"

"What?!"

"Shush," Emi hissed, eyes glued on the newest batter. He looked Chris' height, if not shorter. His skin was tanned and is blond hair was shaggy and fell haphazardly against his face. He looked _wild._ "Looks like we have a winner. That's probably our tactician."

"That guy?" Kuramochi was sceptical. "How'd you know?"

"I can read lips—part of the occupation."

(Sawamura's girlfriend was really freaking him out.)

"That's Zaizen Naoyuki," Isashiki announced gruffly, arms crossing and gaze burning. "One of the best pitchers back in middle school. A monster that rivalled Chris back then."

Emi regarded the blonde with a renewed gleam of interest. A rival? That would explain a lot. Rivals tended to keep tabs on each other and it would explain why he knew about Chris' injury despite being in Tokyo's other hemisphere. Still, Zaizen must have truly hated Chris if he was leading his team to forcefully cripple the catcher again.

Taking advantage of someone's weaknesses had always been a strategy but there existed a certain ethics to that strategy.

Like not maiming someone if it wasn't a life or death situation.

Emi clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Hypothetically, if Eijun hits him with a pitch, is it possible to not concede a run?"

"That would force a play," Miyuki drawled, brows pinched in frustration. Like Emi, he wouldn't mind Zaizen getting hit by pitch—maybe even in the face. "But Chris- _senpai_ wouldn't be able to do it with his shoulder."

Emiri sulked.

She was so used to watching games from the sidelines but she still found it so annoying not being able to play. The dark-haired girl was unable to do anything competitively with her heatlh record and even if she was perfectly healthy, it wasn't like she had the hand-eye coordination to actually play marginally well. This was why she was stuck on the sidelines. Emi didn't mind it most of the time, happy to watch her players enjoy themselves.

On the other hand, she had to deal with never truly being able to get back at opponents for the way they played or acted because they didn't do anything to her—most of the time.

(Even if they had the balls to try Shōichi's temper, Shūzō's and Emiko's tempers were nearly as frightening.)

So when Zaizen missed Eijun's pitch, face-planting into the dirt and Kokodokan's runner began to advance only to be tagged out, Emi did what she felt entitled to.

"Suck that, you cold-hearted son on a bitch! Suck it!"

...Isashiki may or may not have manhandled her to get her to shut up and may or may not have suffered another bite for trying.

(Ryōsuke snickered happily off to the side.)

" _Che_ , that lucky," Isashiki snapped, rubbing his abused hand. "Zaizen's swing's gotten slower—bastard probably slacked off with his big ass ego."

Emi looked contemplative.

Zaizen got up, albeit almost unnoticeably shakily. His left hand clenched at his left knee for a second before he fully straightened, his stance slightly wider than before. His tactic had obviously changed but Kokodokan was unnaturally stiff. The blonde was tenser than before, almost shaky in his energy.

Did losing his balance and falling on his knees really affect him that much?

"You think?"

The first-string regulars immediately turned at Emi's near incredulous question, interrupting Isashiki's heated input on the blonde that was currently up to bat. The aforementioned third-year clicked his tongue in annoyance, holding back on cussing his _kohai_ out just for the moment considering her expression was startingly amused.

Emi turned back to observe the game, her eyes focusing on the blond batter that was currently keeping himself alive through fouls. "I guess that's why he's doing pretty good—"

"Pretty good? He's just about shit—"

"Considering he can barely stand," Emi finished, crossing her arms and unfazed. "His right knee keeps on spasming like it's about to give out. A torn ligament most likely. His balance is awful since he's putting all his weight on his back leg. I'm actually impressed he's managing to make contact and hitting it pretty far since he's probably in a world of pain."

Isashiki quieted, dark eyes flicking back towards Zaizen just as Emiri leaned forward, eyes narrowing in curiousity. The fearsome blonde pitcher he'd known back in middle school was taking a breather, knocking the bat on his helmet.

"...You can see that?'

"And I can see Chris- _senpai's_ shoulder giving out too," Emi muttered, eyes narrowing dangerously. " _Oy_! Did you hear me, Shin- _nii_?! They're not monsters like you!"

She ignored the chokes of surprise and probably fear.

Eijun needed to finish this.

— **[ + ] —**

That pitch had felt so _good_ to Eijun—and Chris' praise felt even better, if that were somehow possible.

But what really got to the first year was his older cousin's elated scream of joy.

Emi was jumping and screaming—and was she hugging the life out of _Miyuki Kazuya?_ —and so happy. She didn't care that her hair was going everywhere, that it was a mess and it wasn't covering her ears. She was being _loud_ , and embracing every second of it. Her eyes were shining and her face literally glowed with the intensity of a thousand suns as she looked at him.

(His Emi- _nee_ finally looked like his Emi _-nee_.)

"You actually got him out with a strike!"

— **[ + ] —**

[From: Chris]

[Subject: First String]

 _Sawaura and Kominato made it._

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She'd forgotten about that.

* * *

…

* * *

" _It's my last year, y'know, Emi-_ chan _? I love ya', and ya' love me but I'm not happy."_

* * *

…

* * *

How could she forget?

 **— [ + ] —**

When Eijun had ignored Kuramochi's warning about the weather, he hadn't expected to be beaned over the head with an umbrella. Followed by a miniature backpack and certainly not by a phone. The latter of which he tried to grab, the slim device slipping through his rain slicked fingers and flying straight up and dropping right back down, his heart leaping out of his chest at each and every pull of gravity.

"I know idiots don't get sick, but you're a different breed so you have to be careful."

Eijun blinked away his panic, phone between his hands that he'd clapped firmly together, and the pinched furrow between his brows soothed at the sight of older cousin.

Emiri looked immaculate as ever, hair falling down over her shoulders in a straight, smoot curtain of dark hair, her pale skin looking near ghostly in comparison—especially in the grey, dreary weather the two were encompassed in—and liquid gold eyes a shock against her monochrome colouring. The girl had her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes burning cold and shadowed by the lack umbrella that kept her entire ensemble pristine and dry.

He couldn't quite describe the emotions that flitted across her face—no, not her face.

Her eyes.

For as long as Eijun could remember, he had loved his cousin's eyes.

The rest of his family, himself included, took after the Sawamura blood that flowed through them—caramel skin, deep, brown, smoldering eyes and dark hair. But Emi was different, taking after her father in some regards—hair so dark, the definition of pitch black—and other attributes a product of countless days spent indoors.

Her gold eyes were different.

Sometimes his friends would remark how his eyes would shine when he played basketball, almost glowing with the intensity of the sun. If Eijun thought about it—and he wasn't the best at these things—he thought that Emi's eyes _were_ the sun—deep, golden and fiery.

 _Alive_.

The intensity in her eyes was unrivalled.

So, the sombre look on her face, the blankness that didn't come from frustration and weariness, didn't suit her.

At all.

Eijun didn't like her face at the moment—didn't like the way she looked. To him, Emiri would always be pretty, but she looked pretty _dead_. He didn't like it. He didn't like the way the way her outfit and the weather matched and worked in tandem, as if she was mourning—grieving for something, something lost.

He _hated_ how her eyes looked like bronze, _they were so dim_.

The younger cousin was use to her smiles, whether they be polite, amused, tired or bloodthirsty—her smiles suited her.

Everyone liked it when Emi smiled.

(So why didn't he like this one?)

It didn't reach her eyes—her polite smile didn't quite do so either—it didn't make her glow—her tired smile didn't either—Eijun couldn't put his finger on it, but he just didn't like the way she was looking now.

 _Defeated_.

"Emi- _nee_?" His voice, impossibly, a breath above a whisper.

And as if he were still dreaming—and he probably was, waking up in class with half-imagined tales on his lips—the sombre mood she wore like a veil evaporated, disappeared. Emi's eyes glowed with something akin to begrudging amusement as she snorted at the tone of her younger cousin's ghosts.

"I'm not here to beat you up... _much_ ,"the girl conceded, teasingly. The ground was slick with rain water, slipper and muddy and not at all suitable for running with the runoff from the field, much less walking but Emiri managed, gliding her feet along the ground not unlike skating.

With more struggle than not, Emi managed to get Eijun back stable on his feet—sacrificing her dry hair in the process—which she wouldn't let him live down... _Later_. Her cousin, almost like his usual rowdy self, complained at her manhandling and even screeched like an angry bird when she'd wipe the mud on her mini bag and her extra umbrella onto his shirt—his _white_ shirt.

Slipping her phone back into her coat pocket, bag bumping against her shoulder blade, Emi glanced at him over one shoulder elegantly, extending the umbrella to him. "Walk with me."

— **[ + ] —**

Eijun hadn't thought he'd been running in the rain long but now, under the precarious protection of an umbrella, he really began to feel the effects of his soggy jog. His shirt clung to his frame uncomfortably—not like when he was sweaty but heavier and he felt the need to sleep on all the extra effort he was making by just wearing his soggy clothes.

But what was even more annoying was the drips of water that ran down his face every so often, flowing out of his hair and into his ears and eyes.

He would actually flinch because that shit was not comfortable.

"Did I ever tell you?"

"Eh?" Momentarily distracted, Eijun blinked away some more water from his eyes. "Tell me what?"

"That Shōichi and I broke up."

 _I beg your fucking pardon_.

(If Eijun was more articulate, that would have been his exact thought.)

Instead of hearing the sound of another set of squelching footsteps, excited guffaws and cries of relief, Emi heard nothing. Curiously, she raised a brow, pivoting to look back at her cousin—

"What the fuck is wrong with your face."

"You broke up with Imayoshi- _onii-sama_?"

"What—"

"You broke up with Imayoshi- _onii-sama_?!"

"Don't interr—"

" _You broke up with Imayoshi-_ onii-sama?!"Eijun screeched, mouth agape and eyes wide with shock and horror and—for some reason that Emi could not fathom why— _fear._

Emi pinched her nose, eyes screwed shut with annoyance and tried— _tried—_ so hard to not lose her shit because Eijun was already freaking out.

But to no avail.

"I just fucking said that we broke up!"

"Why?!" Eijun's face spelled _scandalized_. "You—You've been dating for like—like— _forever_! Childhood sweethearts! He even visited you when you lived with us in Nagano! Emi- _nee,_ how could you have broken up with your one true love?!"

(Never let it be forgotten that Eijun was a diehard shojo manga reader.)

 _What_.

"You hate Shōichi," Emi deadpanned.

"I do!" Eijun lifted a trembling fist, heartbroken tears streaming down his face and mixing with the rain, having dropped his umbrella when Emi had given him the heart attack inducing news. "But you and that _kusomegane_ were perfect together Emi- _nee!_ Who're you going to marry now—actually... _Who_ would marry you now? Emi- _nee,_ you're nice and all but—"

' _This motherfucker_...'

Screw undoing all her effort to look presentable.

Emiri dropped her umbrella, the metal frame clinking against the ground, and did exactly what her former classmate and closest friend taught her to do when boys just didn't understand. She punched him _hard_. Right in the solar plexus, the tops of knuckles just grazing the underside of his lowest ribs and hand practically buried in the more unprotected flesh of his abdomen.

Eijun _wheezed_.

The pitcher immediately curled up in pain, eyes nearly bugging out and nearly falling flat on his ass from the pain.

Emiri heaved, having put in all her energy lunging at her rambling, moronic, _insensitive_ little shit of a cousin and punching him where it would hurt anyone. Her hand stung with the force she used and her nails had no doubt left little divots behind she'd curled her fingers so tightly.

Still it was worth it because right now, right here, she felt satisfied as _fuck_.

Remembering her original goal, Emi straightened, doing her best to pull back wet strands of hair stubbornly clinging to her face and yanked at her clothes that were beginning to weigh her down uncomfortably. "You don't react to someone telling you to their relationship with someone is over like that, that's _rude_."

"You _punched_ me!"

"Bitch, I wanted to stab you—looks like we don't get what we want, do we?"

Eijun pouted, glaring at her as straightened but still rubbing his abdomen soothingly like a toddler with a tummy ache.

"Anyways, Shōichi and I broke up mid-March and—"

"Do you want to get back together?! Is that why you looked so, so _so_ sad Emi- _nee—Itai_!"

Emiri had caught his face between her expert fingers and was now pinching and stretching his cheeks to the point of pain.

"And it was over basketball—well, winning to be more exact."

Eijun gasped, scandalized, as well as he could in Emi's grasp, and tried to put a hand to chest.

"Stop that, you idiot." Emi sighed, twisting and getting a yelp of pain for her efforts. "Point is, we didn't really argue much and our fights never lasted long but we broke up..."

Emi's breathing had slowed down a lot, her mouth puckering and twisting in an expression Eijun recognized as a sign that she was either going to start crying or yelling.

Or both.

(Either way, he was _scared_.)

"Shōichi sometimes rushes things but we both agreed—even though I hate it—that we need to be away from each other for now."

"But... But Emi- _nee_ what about when—"

"He's still my best friend," Emi cut in, a fond smile on her face. "So he listens when I really need him—like on your first day—but he's decided... He's never been fine with being a challenger—a contestant—he doesn't like _not_ being in control so he's okay... And I'm happy for him. I made him angry before we broke up so I guess it was a while in the works but... I think it's the best example of how important winning is to people. It's not just about having fun and right now... He needs to focus all his energy in this last tournament... not on me..."

Emiri pressed her face into her hands, sniffing loudly and biting hard down on her lip.

" _I miss him_."

"—Emi- _nee_?"

Emiri shook her head wildly, like a wild dog with water droplets flying every which way. Eijun's face was contorted in a mixture of worry and confusion, tilting his head almost adorably as he stared at her. A pointed frown adorned his face and Emi hoped he wasn't so vigilant that he could notice the hot tears mixing in with the icy rain and poured harmoniously down her fave.

Had she imagined it all?

The talk?

His reaction?

(She was losing it all.)

"Emi- _nee_? What were you going to tell me?" Eijun blinked curiously at her, fidgeting and shifting from the rhythmic pitter patter of the rain against his back. "You got quiet and then you said 'I miss him.' Miss who, Emi- _nee_?"

 _She definitely was going crazy. Holy fucking shit._

Emiri swallowed, some unknown emotion welling up in her throat and tried, _tried_ to think of something to say—

"There you are, you idiot!"

"Miyuki Kazuya," Eijun gritted out between his teeth, shoulders raising and pupils going cat-eyed as he glared at the catcher. Emi in contrast stared at her peer dumbly, numbness setting into her bones and creeping along her spine not unlike the chill of the rain.

The regular catcher grinned at the two cousins, his grin wide. "Awfully close with your _senpai_ , _ne_ , Sawamura?"

Emi yanked on her cousin's ear before the pitcher could reply, throwing her peer a bland look.  
"Is Chris- _senpai..._?"

"Yep," Miyuki chirped, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. "Come on."

(Why was she here?)

— **[ + ] —**

"Fuck, you're hot."

Chirs blushed from the roots of his hair all the way down—how far down, Emi sort of wanted to know but that was far too intimate for their current acquaintance-co-worker- _senpai-kohai-_ friend hybrid relationship.

(Unfortunately.)

Eijun blanched; face stricken and pale from his cousin's audacity while Miyuki laughed off the awkward tension that the boys all somehow shared in the moment. The assembled helpers—Haruichi, Maezono, Kuramochi and Masuko—simply gaped and marvelled at the girl's balls.

All things considered, Emi did have a pair on her.

Emiri stared for a moment longer, finally blinking and taking in the faces of the boys around her and bit back a snort and the accompanying eye roll. In her honest opinion, when it came to taking compliments, it was boys would get more flustered—but then again, patriarchy.

Normally, she wouldn't comment further but considering Chris' face was currently redder than the sun on the Japanese flag...

"It's not that I didn't find you attractive before—you not having your bangs gelled back gives you, like, a boyish, _roguish_ , look. I would almost say scruffy but you're too tidy for that—anyways, it just surprised me." Emi waved her hand flippantly, "Okay, continue."

The third year in question willed most of his blush away and cleared his throat awkwardly and finally got to what he wanted to say and why he'd gathered the boys here for Eijun and the paler boy from the scrimmage, Furuya.

Eijun cried.

Of course.

It was an odd sight they made. An assorted group of teenage boys, ranging from fifteen, almost sixteen, to seventeen, almost eighteen. They had different coloured hairs and heights, builds and frames. Some looked mean and another looked adorable. Some looked older than they were and some had this boyish quality about their appearance.

But there was an air about them that made Emi pause and watch.

Emi looked at the atmosphere in front of her. It wasn't just the soft glow of the lights overhanging them from the rafters that made them all seem to glow. There was a soft, genuine gentle warmth there, present because they were all there and interacting. They were loud and rowdy and rough housing but they looked so _happy_.

It was a beautiful sight.

Expectedly, she felt a chill roll its way through her nerves and yet another wave of numbness set it. It was sort of like when you'd be so happy and frolicking in the snow and you'd scoop some of that cold, icy shit up and start a snowball fight. And you'd feel so warm and so happy and so _alive_ in that fight until you couldn't feel your fingers because they were so numb from the cold.

And then you'd remember you were in the winter, cool air nipping at your cheeks and all you could think of was going back inside and wishing for something hot to drink—maybe it'd be tea, or coffee or hot chocolate. You'd be so cold and so filled with the need for warmth that you don't want to be outside in the cold anymore. The snow was ugly, a nuisance and nothing but a pain in the ass.

And you wanted nothing, needed nothing, but warmth.

That's what Emi felt.

(That's what she'd been feeling for a while now.)

And so she finally admitted it to herself.

"I miss this a lot."

— **[ + ] —**

" _Ne,_ Shin- _nii_ ," Emi murmured, low enough not to be heard but her school mates but loud enough for pretty much demonic coach to hear. He didn't say anything, however, only giving her a backwards glance for a fraction of a second—a sign to continue. "You have a training camp coming up, right?"

A silent nod.

"Consider me a temporary manager then."

He looked at her this time.

(Funny. Her parents had looked at her the same way.)

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I am so sorry for my absence, I've been dealing with...things which kind of made it's way into this chapter. If this chapter feels kind of choppy so far, I kind of was going for that vibe. Emi thinks she has her shit together but obviously not and I think that sums up a lot of the teenage experience other than wanting to cry due to a lot of things. Life in general, I guess? Oh, and hormones. Yeah, that shit stinks.**

 **On a side note, "oiki ha magaranu" is a Japanese idiom that means, "old trees do not bend." Basically, it loosely means the same thing as "you can't teach an old dog new tricks."**


	9. Chapter IX — A Hot Mess

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter IX — A Hot Mess**

* * *

 _Every now and then, it all descends into a chaos that makes you contemplate life._

.

.

.

 _[Did I tell you?]_

"Tell me what?" Imayoshi Shōichi fondly asked, lips twisted in his usual smirk, pushing his glasses from his face and wiping the sweat across his brow. He cracked his shoulder, rearranging himself to a more languid and comfortable position on his bench.

It never ceased to amaze him that his ex-girlfriend still came to him for everything.

 _[I... I've temporarily decided to join Eijun's baseball team—as a—as a manager.]_

He frowned, and his teammates—or rather subordinates, since, after all, he was their dreadful, cold-blooded captain—scurried away.

 _[...Are you mad?]_

"I'm not mad—nothing ya' do affects me, Emi- _chan."_

There was an underlying bite to his tone—dark and cruel, and maybe jealous. Always, always, _always_ one to lend a hand to people who didn't _fucking_ need it—and left him. The rational part of him always despised the fact he overly indulged her—maybe that's why he almost loved to see her cry as much as he hated it.

Emi's voice on the other end was positively delighted. _[Great! I... I—]_

"I'm goin', Emi- _chan."_

 _[Oh... Alright... Bye.]_

Their break didn't end for another ten minutes but it wasn't like Emiri knew that—not like she paid attention enough to the things he did. And maybe that was the root of why he harboured horrible feelings for her—her naivety.

So smart and yet...

"So stupid," Imayoshi mockingly grieved with a forlorn sigh.

— **[ + ] —**

Haruno shyly glanced at her dark-haired _senpai_ from beneath her bangs. She'd seen her around before—mainly barging into her class to collect Sawamura—but this was the first time she'd seen Emi so... _tranquil_.

Emiri was perfectly at ease in the kitchen alongside the four official managers of the baseball team. The dark-haired second-year completely disregarded or maybe hadn't even noticed the blatant stares of the other girls—Haruno's the most constant and the most curious, the younger girl's face pinched in a sort of confused pout. It wasn't that the girl was curious about Emi's sudden involvement with anyone but Sawamura, and occasionally the younger Kominato, she was, it was just that the second-years was so... _fluid_ with her movements.

The first-year glanced down at her own rice balls, a red flush of embarrassment blooming along her cheeks as she stared at the misshaped things. Emi's on the other hand were the literal and truest definition of perfect. The sides were smoothed, not a single grain out of place, and the piece of _nori_ was perfectly centred—not to mention that each shape was uniform and an exact replica of all the others she'd made onto her tray. In fact, Emi had made nearly double than Takako, the third-year veteran, and wasn't losing steam any time soon.

In short, Haruno had essentially found her idol—Emiri was just _scarily_ efficient.

She had wasted no time after introductions, lifting herself easily from her bow and had immediately straightened into perfect posture to then start speedily forming rice after rice ball after rice ball!

The mahogany-haired girl wanted to speak up so badly, but in between Emi's unwavering gaze at the task at hand and the girl's lightning dips into a small bowl of water—she didn't even spill a drop—the first-year found herself more than a little intimidated...

She wondered if the second-year was simply a natural in the kitchen—a born genius! She surely could, with the fluidity and grace of her actions—

"The secret is wet hands and as little contact with your hands as possible," Emi cut off the first-year's musings, startling the lot of them despite not lifting her golden gaze from the rice ball she squishing and turning rapidly to shape. "You're staring."

Haruno blushed, mumbling an apology and returned to her own... _things_.

She wasn't the only one that looked longingly at the tray of utter perfection that Emiri had laid out.

Haruno, unfortunately, didn't notice the quirk of Emi's lips as she fleetingly lifted her gaze to give the first-year a once over.

(And maybe, just _maybe_ , the golden-eyed girl felt something akin to the fondness she felt for Haruichi bloom in her chest and the sight of the adorably pouting first-year.)

— **[ + ] —**

"Dig in!"

"There's plenty!"

Eijun was in _heaven_.

Not only had he hadn't seen Emi since their daily lunch talk, his cousin had practically evaporated—meaning, she wasn't ragging on him for something or another. Don't get Eijun wrong, he absolutely, positively _adored_ his Emi- _nee,_ except she was very pushy.

He totally blamed it on Imayoshi- _onii-sama._ That man was impure _evil_.

"Haruno over there has salmon; I'm holding a tray of tuna and mayo _onigiri_ —"

That sounded like Emi.

But it _shouldn't_ be Emi.

Painfully slow, Eijun warily opened his eyes and _died_.

"What're you doing here— _ITAI_!"

Eijun held his abused hand, rubbing forlornly at is finger—the very finger that Emi had bitten when he dared point it at her face. The dark-haired girl gave her cousin smug look, her lips quirked in a victorious smirk and there was a new swagger and sway in her strut as she continued to walk around with the tray of rice balls.

Emiri's annoyance with her cousin wasn't betrayed by her professionalism and efficiency in distributing the rice balls, slowly but steadily meandering her way through the crowded, sweaty boys to ensure that everyone had at least gotten one—even to the ones slowly dying at the back of the crowd. She wore a polite, if not slightly plastic, smile on her face—tilting her head and crinkling her eyes enough to feign contentment and happiness with her task.

If Eijun had been less afraid of his cousin, and her telepathic—and unknown to him—ex-boyfriend, he would've called her a fake bitch in his thoughts.

Eijun was an idiot, yes, but he knew when to back the fuck up.

Still, just to be a spiteful brat, he all but snatched one of Haruno's carefully crafted but misshaped rice balls and bit into it with gusto—specifically when he made eye contact with Emiri.

Emi, of course, rolled her eyes at her cousin's childishness and may or may not have batted her eyelashes at an—at the moment—nameless first-string member, with the boy in question feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

Eijun's dramatic ass, of course, had to squawk like a fucking bird at the sight and whipped a finger in his _senpai's_ direction, boldly declaring, "Emi's off limits, you thief!"

Silence.

Emiri quietly handed off the last rice ball on the try to a slightly flushed—and doing his best to hide it—Kawakami and did exactly what Kataoka had expected her to do.

She whipped the tray at her cousin's head.

(Kuramochi nearly broke a rib from laughing.)

It clonked off his head with a more than satisfying clang and Emi turned back around with _the_ smuggest smile on her face. "Suck it, idiot."

Afterwards, Emi happily skipped off to join Chris, who was fondly, if not exasperatedly, shaking his head at the girl's actions. Emi smiled crookedly at the third year, a smile that oozed with a troublemaker's vibe, and gave the third-year a friendly jab with her elbow. She, of course, ignored her cousin's overdramatic wailing and whining the entire time.

"So," Emi began, twisting her tongue in her mouth as she tried to find her words. The dark-haired girl stood akimbo, legs shoulder-width apart, hands resting on her hips and head held up high. "How is my child doing?"

"Your child?"

"My child," Emi reiterated, placing a hand on her chest in mock offense at Chris' raised brow and quirk of lips. The girl was more than amused by her own brand of humor, breaking out into a short fit of giggles that had her catching herself on her knees.

She was being a lot more... sunny?

In Chris' eyes, the family resemblance was beginning to show—Emi's eyes had always seemed to glow but now there was a literal glow about her.

It was _adorable_.

But at the same time, really, really, _really_ freaky.

Why?

 _Because she was being too fucking nice._

…Well, mostly.

She had hit Eijun but that seemed more of a habitual thing than done out of true malice or ill intent. Emiri still got that faraway gleam in her eye, like she was day dreaming but more intensely, but there was a fondness in that small little smile that she would sew onto her face whenever she presented herself before other people.

Her entire being was at ease.

And Chris found himself the slightest bit jealous.

The third-year catcher was well-known for unshakeable, tranquil yet passionate demeanor but Chris himself felt that he was anything but. There was an odd sort of energy in his limbs from not being able to play—or well, play the way he wanted to—for the past year but the feeling of said energy only seemed to intensify as the summer months, and thus, summer tournament, began to dawn on them. It was his final year, final half-year in all reality, and he was nothing more than a _manager_.

He loved Seidō, loved its people and its spirit deeply, to the very depths of his soul, but baseball had been, was and would be his very soul—the utter essence of his being.

But it felt wrong not to play and though Sawamura had reignited a spark in him to be more than just the key analyst, his current role in the scheme of things felt wrong in all possible aspects he could imagine. It felt wrong to not be such a grand presence on the field, to not be the omniscient mind of the team. It was a concept, a feeling that he was still unused to and probably would forever be unused to because despite his academics and character, he wasn't made for sitting peacefully.

Simply put, the stress of not being able to play, warring with the constant urge to just get out there on top of being a third-year with all the joys of being senior, piled up on his shoulders heavily.

So, you could _sue_ him for finding himself jealous about Emi's sudden bout of nonchalance.

The girl had practically been fuming and raving since he'd met her—always having this energy like she would explode and implode at the same time.

This wasn't possible of course, physically or scientifically but still, that was the vibe she often had.

"Anyways," Emi straightened, rolling her loose shoulders back. "I haven't quite been able to keep an eye on him despite being allowed to help and stay but I doubt he'd misbehave—this is a serious matter, after all, but he's..."

The girl flounced her hands about, eyes roving and rolling along with her gesticulations as she tried to find the word.

"Unpredictable? Surprising? I mean... they both fit but at the same time they don't fit well enough? Erratic? Whimsical—oh! _Impulsive_."

"That's... fitting," Chris managed, not quite able to hide the startled lilt in his voice.

(The familial resemblance was _totally_ visible now.)

Emi was being like a... smarter, more mentally sound and just a little bit angsty version of Sunshine Child Sawamura with less mood swings and unnecessary loudness.

It was really fucking freaky.

"Emiri!"

Emi bent backwards until she could look upside down at what was directly behind her. She, of course, couldn't do it like a normal person and just look over her shoulder. Kataoka gazed at her through his darkly tinted shades, completely unimpressed, and beckoned her over with a quick flap of his callused fingers. Emiri made a sound between a groan and whine but nonetheless complied with the man's demand.

Chris shook his head at the girl's unexpected bout of, well, weirdness.

(He couldn't help but think it suited her, the smiles, he meant.)

Kataoka stifled the habit of placing a hand on her head, instead crossing his arms and waited for the snacking boys to settle down and look at both him and the petite girl at his side. "Introduce yourself."

"My name is Nakano Emiri," said girl bowed, folding at the waist to perform a perfect ninety-degree bow. "And starting today and lasting for the remainder of this training camp, I'll be another set of hands."

"Consider her a temporary manager," Kataoka summarized. "She's a floater—you'll see her in the kitchen, on the field or in the indoor gym."

He could tell that his boys were questioning this new addition, especially since it was only temporary. Both Rei and Ota had questioned his apparently sudden decision, especially with the commotion the girl always happened to bring along, but as head coach, his word was law.

This, of course, Emi monopolized for her own selfish desires.

It didn't escape his shrewd stare, no, not at all.

But like... Kataoka bending to her whims wasn't exactly new?

(He vividly remembered spoiling the toddler _rotten_ , Miyako at his side and the both of them competing for the toddler's attention and affection no matter how childish of a past time it was.)

Well, it had been a while since he had to put up with her needy ass but she was pretty sure all he saw when he looked at her was a toddler that wanted up. Emi's suspicions were only confirmed when she beamed up at him and he practically melted—he would have literally melted if he didn't have to keep face in front of his boys.

(She would totally sic her Shin- _nii_ on Eijun's annoying as fuck dumbass. Probably in the near future. The very, very, _very_ near future.)

With Eijun still rubbing at his abused head, Chris shaking his head with begrudging fondness and the whole familiar yet strange atmosphere her current environment possessed, Emi couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't like her strained smiles of politeness, nor the smile—resembling more of a smirk—when she was about to get violent, and it wasn't the dazzling smile she wore whenever she found something positively adorable.

It was, as succinctly as possible, a _radiant_ smile.

It was soft, her lips drawn up gently and curling ever so slightly but it far from a smirk. There was a sincerity in the simple little curves of her lips—there was even a hint of twin dimples, one in either cheek—but the glow didn't come from laughter or happiness, it was something else. Chris, though he wasn't the poetic type, would dare say it was nostalgic, almost pitifully beautiful in all its beauty but it was far, far, _far_ happier than that because she wasn't trapped in the haze of memory. It was a smile that lit up her delicate features, smoothing out the hard, sharp lines from scowling and frowning and highlighted a gleam in her eye that they hadn't been privy to before.

It made Emi _glow_.

And holy _shit_ was she pretty when she smiled like that.

(Kataoka gave his boys a disappointing, unamused glare when he caught sight of the crimson flushes, nearly camouflaged by the sunset's dying light.)

' _I never realized how much I missed this.'_

— **[ + ] —**

When Eijun sorely, stiffly walked into the mess hall, he did so with a lack of gusto and an aura of _please cut my fucking head off_. Everything fucking _hurt_ , and he wasn't exaggerating at all when he said that. Eijun didn't know he could even hurt in some places—up until now, it seemed impossible to even hurt in those places.

...He was pretty sure he cracked his fucking spine as he sat down.

" _Itai_..." he hissed, more than whined.

This kind of training camp had to be illegal—it just fucking had to—

"Hi!" Emi screeched into his ear, slamming her hands down unforgivingly on his shoulders.

Eijun shrieked in pain, and if he had more feeling in his body, would've jumped a couple metres straight up into the air. Quicker than the crack of a whip, the first-year pitcher spun around, his cat-eyed glare aimed at the laughing smile of his older cousin, her golden eyes positively glittering with her amusement at his reaction. Laughter made her shoulder quiver and the girl nearly pressed a hand to her mouth to stop her guffaws from leaving.

"That hurt!" _You bitch_ , was left unsaid.

It wasn't like Eijun would actually even dare think to say that to a _senpai_ —except for Miyuki probably, actually, he _would_ say that to Miyuki—and even more so his cousin. Especially since that cousin was Emi.

She wasn't nearly as forgiving as Suzume or Daichi.

(Far from it, actually.)

The two cousins stared each other down for a tense moment, neither bothering to breathe—well, Eijun didn't bother to breathe. Emiri looked completely calm and tranquil, but like the ocean, she was able to unleash a fury unlike any other in the blink of an eye. The golden-eyed girl simply gave her cousin a smug look of victory—something she'd been wearing for a while now—and stood perfectly relaxed, a hand resting on her hip as she stared right back at him.

Eijun absolutely _refused_ to back down!

" _Ew_. Stop flirting, Bakamura."

(Someone better had fucking count their prayers since Emi was far too enthralled with annoying the ever-loving fuck out of her cousin to hear that and far too focused to retaliate.)

Miyuki, ever the instigator—aka, the shit stirrer—casually hip checked the pitcher as he sat down further along the same bench with his portion of dinner. The catcher grinned at the pitcher's reaction—Eijun flailing and squawking as he tried to regain his balance.

Emi felt a shot of fondness zip up her spine at her peer's actions, the girl pressing a flat palm against her cousin's chest and _pushed_.

Eijun fell to the floor.

Both second-years laughed, Emi's far more pleasant to the ear than Miyuki's signature nasally laugh.

Although, by this time, the many athletes of Seidō's baseball team had probably developed an aversion to Miyuki's laugh—that laugh meant nothing good. _Nothing_ good at all. At all.

("What the _fuck_? She's getting along with _Miyuki_?!")

Eijun grumbled from his position on the floor, spread starfish. He really wanted to move and get into Emiri's face, but at the same time, did he _really_? Want to move, that is. Getting into Emi's face was practically a reflexive reaction at this point.

His body fucking _hurt_.

Whoever designed this training camp—one Kataoka Tesshin, not that Eijun knew that or hadn't cursed the coach before—had a specialist major in _torture_.

(Did a major in literature studies count as a major in torture?)

Emi offered Eijun an unrepentant smile, offering both her hands to one of his—which he grabbed, gently, because Emi was particular about her hands—and yanked with all her strength. Which, if one had seen all of her bouts of violence, would've imagined to be greater but hey, anger meant adrenaline and adrenaline was practically a natural steroid.

The first-year pitcher gave his cousin a cat-eyed glare as he settled down, his shoulders tense from both the elongated periods of torture as well as his Emi- _nee's_ recent streak of sadism. "Why're you still here? It's late."

(Shōichi had _really_ done a number on her.)

But Emi's attention was elsewhere, once again ignoring her cousin as her features pinched into a frown.

"My _otou-_ san is picking me up... What the fuck is wrong with your nails?" Emi demanded, face contorted in disgust as she delicately picked up her cousin's hand. She slowly and hesitantly lifted his fingers up with her own fingertips, a deep frown carved into her face.

Eijun stared at her blankly. Not in the same Emi would stare at him when he did something stupid, his face was blank as in he did not understand what the ever-loving fuck Emi was making a commotion over.

"Your nails are... _disgusting_ ," Emi hissed, recoiling, slightly wincing as the edge of the table bit into her back. She batted his hand away and shuffled down the bench until she was nearly skin to skin against Miyuki. The catcher nearly flinched away from the contact but held fast against the instinctual urge.

Just to be the little fucking shit that Emi knew he was, Eijun waggled his fingers in her direction and the girl cringed away.

"Fucking _nasty_ ," she hissed, pressing herself against Miyuki more. Said catcher was more than a little beside himself with Emi's constant contact—not to mention the girl was practically clawing at his shoulder in her attempt to stay away from her cousin.

Fuck, Emi was practically sitting in his lap.

(He could _feel_ the seething glares stabbing at his back.)

Come to think of it, Miyuki was glad the more boisterous first-year pitcher was currently occupied with annoying the fuck out of his peer—

" _Oi_! Emi! Get off of the _tanuki_ bastard!"

Ah, _shit_.

He'd jinxed it.

But what was he to do?

Miyuki wasn't a fan of manhandling, much less physical contact of any kind in general, and so was a little more than hesitant about fending Emi off of him. Especially since the girl had little reservations with showcasing her temper—as she had demonstrated earlier on when she lobbed the tray she'd been holding at her cousin's head. Remorselessly, if he could add. Absolutely _no_ hesitation to brain the first-year and probably had no hesitation to do it again despite risk of brain damage.

Like the idiot needed to lose more brain cells of the few he possessed and even more so of the _very_ few he actually used.

But, when Emi raised a challenging brow and her jerky moments ceased, Miyuki found his inner dilemma put on hold.

Smoothly, Emi slid her left palm to balance delicately on his left shoulder and laid her right hand over left in a reminiscence of a clasp. She lifted her chin high, arrogant and daring, and then hopped up onto his thighs, fully seating herself on the catcher's lap.

Miyuki felt his throat close as she shifted, not daring to even _breathe_.

He was a nice piece of ass if he did say so himself—well, his fangirls said so.

But between playing baseball competitively—sleeping, breathing and living the sport—on top of being at a private school that expected more than decent grades to allow play time, and living in an all-boys dorm with a strict rule about visitors—especially the female kind—did he really have any time for girls?

While the smooth bastard would have said yes under normal conditions, these weren't normal conditions.

He had a girl that was a literal firecracker sitting in his lap like she fucking owned it, and was tauntingly staring at his _kohai_ head on with a look that screamed _I fucking dare you_.

(Not to mention he found Emi attractive—in an aesthetic sense, _purely_ aesthetic.)

So not normal conditions.

 _Not._

But the southpaw's _face_...

Emiri gave him a fleeting glance out of the corner of her golden eyes, a smile twitching her lips minutely before she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders. Miyuki in turn raised a brow discreetly and Emi's face twitched as she snuggled the tiniest bit closer to his chest—close enough to rest her head on the same shoulder upon her delicate hands lay. And just for more dramatic flair, Emi crossed her legs in a slow, purposeful tempo—letting the hem of her skirt rise just the teensiest bit.

Eijun _fumed_.

...Miyuki wanted to full on _cackle_.

And just as the pitcher was about to open his big mouth, Miyuki decided to play along.

( _God_ , having Emi around was so much _fun_.)

He carefully wrapped his left arm across her front to lightly clutch at her waist. Not enough to actually warrant as an intimate touch but Eijun certainly wouldn't notice with his current, fragile and easily-manipulated state of mind.

"No need to make a fuss, Sawamura," Miyuki stitched on his signature shit-eating grin, and laughing his signature nasally laugh. His caramel eyes darted over to his _kohai_ from over Emi's head and his smile only grew wider at how crimson the younger player's expression was. "We're both perfectly comfortable."

And, to prove his point and really sell the act, Emi practically flopped herself into his chest.

(Miyuki would deny he froze, would deny that he felt flustered but he would especially deny that he sort of liked the feeling of having someone tucked into his side so innocently.)

"Get off him now!" Eijun cried, flying to his feet and stomping over to his cousin and the annoying as fuck first-string catcher. He ground his teeth together when the duo ignored him outright—Emi even had the balls to bury her face into Miyuki's bloody shoulder!

"Don't ignore me!"

Emi lifted her face from Miyuki's shoulder with a petulant expression that literally screamed for the entire world to here that she was currently fucking done with the bullshit that was happening right there and then. "Can you fucking not."

"Just wait until I tell Imayo—"

"And what is Shōichi going to do, hm, wise ass?" Emi cut him off, and just to annoy her cousin further, swung one leg over Miyuki's lap so she was currently straddling the catcher.

(Suffice to say, Miyuki was more than glad she wasn't able to see his face at the moment.)

"You're acting like I'm cheating on him—first of all, how fucking dare you assume I would do something so heinous and shameful. Fuck you. Second of all, I'm with you?" Emi scrunched her brows together, lips thinning. "If I was going to be a home wrecking whore, why the actual fuck would I do that type of shit in front of your crazy ass?"

("I told you they were dating!" The statement may or may not have been followed with several exclamations of " _Fuck!"_ and the exchange of several high denomination bills.)

...Eijun hadn't really thought this scolding through. Or in truth, his skills in oratory and wits was far outmatched by Emiri's—something she'd cultivated with the company she chose and kept.

(It was almost _impossible_ to win an argument against the sharp, silver-tongued Imayoshi Shōichi unless you were his parents or his— _now—_ ex-girlfriend, that is, Nakano Emiri.)

"Well, wise ass? Educate me, oh fucking wise—"

"Emiri."

Everyone who was _highkey_ eavesdropping stopped and dug into their meals with renewed gusto. The coach was the furthest thing from amused at the moment—hence why Eijun had practically turned into an ice block—and was currently giving the girl in question the highest form of his I am not impressed face. Kuramochi felt nothing but pity for the catcher who was literally burning on the spot, his lap full with the girl and his arm frozen at her waist with the coach's unexpected arrival.

"Get off Miyuki."

The girl pouted, sinking her chin into Miyuki's shoulder and looking all the more adorable in her attempt to look over the catcher's shoulder. She turned her face to look at the catcher, but instead looked at his neck. "Are you uncomfortable?"

...Miyuki was at a loss for words.

What was he supposed to say to _that_ face?

Emiri had the slightest inkling of guilt because she knew he was uncomfortable with their current position—far too intimate for acquaintances at the most—but she couldn't really find it in herself to move.

Miyuki's lap was the third most comfortable lap she had ever sat in.

First, of course, belonged to Shōichi.

Actually, now that she thought about it, maybe she was projecting her habits onto the catcher because he constantly reminded her of Shōichi? Emi wanted to cry half the time in Miyuki's presence but at the same time, he didn't have Shōichi's other qualities which distinguished him. Yet the catcher had enough similarities that Emiri had caught herself almost calling the catcher Shōichi in her head.

Which... _Ew._

You had to be another level of twisted to replace someone with another person just because they had some similarities.

That was totally obsessive and the biggest fucking example of _you're fucking crazy_.

Emiri had one or two—maybe a few dozen—screws loose or lost, but she wasn't that sick.

(Besides, no one could _ever_ even begin to replace Shōichi in her life, much less her heart.)

"Emiri."

"Do I have to?"

Kataoka was totally not fazed by the girl's adorably childish whine. Totally not. But in truth, he was.

(The girl really knew how to play up her qualities.)

"Your father is here."

"Oh," Emi perked up, tapping Miyuki's arm to let her go and hopped off his lap in a single elegant motion. She skipped over to the towering coach, and caught his elbow with one hand to lead him out of the room with her. "Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"Holy fuck, she's crazy."

"...You just realized that _now_?"

There were several noises of agreement, easily quelled by Kataoka's unimpressed gaze—Isashiki especially cowered, having made the comment, when Kataoka's unimpressed stare evolved into an _I am not pleased_ glare that was aimed at the loudmouthed centre fielder.

"Miyuki, are you okay?"

If Eijun disliked the catcher before, the first-year pitcher was now absolutely incensed at the prospect of his _senpai_ and his precious Emi- _nee_ forming any sort of bond other than 'that person goes to my school'.

He was against it—it went against every moral and ethical code he'd been taught—he wasn't sure if the combination of Emi and Miyuki was even legal, much less holy.

But then again, his Emi- _nee had_ dated his _kistune_ -like Imayoshi- _onii-sama._

Eijun shook his head—no! He shouldn't dare akin his Imayoshi- _onii-sama_ to someone as foul as Miyuki Kazuya—after all, Imayoshi- _onii-sama_ and his Emi- _nee_ were in love, and nothing was purer than that, Emi- _nee_ would _never_ even think of loving a fiend.

(Or well, Shōichi and Emi _had_ been in love...or at least, Emi thought they had been. She didn't know anymore—whether they had been in love, still were or never did, that is.)

— **[ + ] —**

Tha Nakano patriarch deftly slammed the trunk shut, satisfied by the _thunk_ of metal against metal, and slipped back into the driver's seat, his daughter fiddling with her phone as she did most days. If not drawing or staring out the window listlessly—in other words, _brood_ , but Katsuki didn't like using that word to describe his daughter's activities—she was too young to _brood_.

So in his mind, Emi _contemplated_.

If Eiko were there, she would scoff at her husband's apparent foolishness, roll her eyes and spit, "Like there's any difference between the two, Katsuki, you moron."

Like mother, like daughter he supposed—he would like to joke about how beautiful a thing his daughter was, considering her crass mother, but Katsuki like his parts where they were.

Especially his hair—it was practically universally known that Nakano Eiko's, born Sawamura Eiko, first choice of attack was jumping onto and then yanking at people's hair.

The fiendish woman.

Emi's father shook his head fondly at the thought of his wife, instead focusing his gaze on the reflection of his daughter in the rear-view mirror. His eyes trailed over her delicate features, taking time to appreciate the features she'd definitely inherited from his wife—the nose, the shape of her eyes and the roundness of her cheeks.

He had a beautiful daughter—and he meant that in every sense of who she was and not just something as superficial as her looks.

And Katsuki simply adored how she seemed to glow—albeit with a tired energy—these days.

(Tired was better than sombre or melancholic _any_ day.)

"You look happy," Katsuki observed, a wide smile blooming across his face.

This was the version of his daughter that he loathed her ex-boyfriend for crippling and forcing to hide away. The version the same boy had brought out with his scathing tongue and deliberate, calculated actions.

The same boy who Emi relied on more than she did himself and Eiko, much to her parents' heartache.

(Katsuki would never understand why Shōichi and Emi broke up.)

"I think... I think I am," Emi admitted, golden eyes wide at the realization. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her lips twisting near painfully in a conflicted frown. Her father didn't say anything, opting to averting his eyes away from meeting hers in the rear-view mirror.

Did... Did that mean she was moving away from Shōichi?

(She didn't want that at all... She needed to hear his voice.)

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing in irritation at his own mistake. Wordlessly, he slipped both hands on to the steering wheel and drove.

They didn't speak a word for the entire ride home.

And neither did Emi speak as she flew up the stairs with anxious energy, leaving her parents to share a look and sigh deeply in resignation. Katsuki and Eiko slipped their arms around each other and just held each other close, basking in the comforting warmth of each other's presence.

How they loathed to admit it—they denied it vehemently each time the thought snaked its way into their minds—that they weren't enough for her.

(What did they do wrong?)

They couldn't bring themselves to even step near Emi's door when her sobs filtered through the house that night and into the early morning—too terrified of Emi's reaction to see them both together—to see them so in love and co-dependent.

(They were horrible parents, weren't they?)

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri, was, in short, _not_ having any of it— _any_ of it—the following practice. There wasn't the same mirth in her eyes, or the same fondness. She seemed to have adopted sharper lines on her face, her features harder, sharper—more intimidating. The scowl the second-year had been wearing for most of the day—and this both Shirasu and Kawakami could attest to—was downright bloodthirsty.

The second-year regulars couldn't hear what the girl was muttering about but based on her scowl and her attitude, it was probably numerous obscenities, death threats, and complaints.

Although one thing was clear:

"I fucking _hate_ him!" Emi swore violently—and Kawakami could almost imagine her teeth sharpening into fangs as she hissed the words with cold, vermillion eyes.

The second-year pitcher wasn't privy to what exactly the first-year pitcher had done—much as he was loathe to admit that Emi, his cute classmate, and Sawamura, his _cheerful_ teammate, were close—but he could imagine it wasn't pretty.

Especially since Emiri was targeting Eijun the entire practice, why the coach decided to put Emi on the field, no one knew but at least one thing was very obviously clear. Emi had _zero_ tolerance for Eijun and was making a rather big show of her irritation.

"You call that a sprint?! I could've run faster with my crutches back from the fourth grade, you fucking nitwit!"

The pitcher dashed away from her wrath, her angry aura and his teammates' pitying stares at his back.

"You know, Chris- _senpai,_ I understand that Eijun is a special case, but some special cases... You have to let them go."

Emi spoke nonchalantly, but the steel in her eyes had the boys marking out a ten metre safety zone around her.

" _Oh_? You're out of breath _now_? Must have used it all up spitting all that bullshit in the air earlier."

The poor first year looked ready to _cry_.

"Keep _running_ , not hobbling—straighten your back—stop throwing your arms—bend your fucking knees—what the fuck? Push off with your _toes_ —can you do _anything_ right? Don't answer, I know you can't."

He _did_ cry.

"Eijun, _if you don't get your ass up and off the fucking ground in the next thirty fucking seconds_ —"

The dark-haired girl's threat hadn't even had time to hang in the air for even a millisecond before the boy in question was up and off the ground and bolting towards the baths with no abandon.

...Kawakami was pretty sure his _kohai_ was bawling all the way.

"You're just like Imayoshi- _onii-sama_!"

 _What._

Kawakami, like the rest of his teammates, didn't quite understand the first-year pitcher's barely intelligible bawl, but Emiri sure did and the cool rage that blanketed her face...

The golden-eyed girl's features had been pinched downwards in an ugly frown all day, eyebrows scrunched together, and eyes narrowed into deadly slits not unlike the regular third-year second baseman. In fact, Emi's and Ryosuke's deadly stare was so similar it was _terrifying_. But the moment she had heard Eijun's words...

Emi's face fell flat. It wasn't a look of surprise, it wasn't startled or disappointed—no, it was something chilling. As cliché as it was to describe it as such, Kawakami would liken her expression to the calm before a storm. Not on land of course, but on the sea.

When a storm would hit, and he remembered this from a childhood growing up near the waterfront, the sea would darkly reflect the ominous clouds in the heavens, yet retain the same peaceful, tranquil, rocking of waves—almost like a lullaby, enchanting. Yet at the first kiss of rain drops to the ever-rippling ocean surface, the waves would rise and grow to gargantuan heights—capable of capsizing boats and dragging sailors down into the depths unforgivingly.

Emi's face was like that—that haunting calmness just as wave became whirlpool, tranquility became violent and deadly.

And while the sea's wrath was unforgiving and indiscriminate, the frozen fire that burned in his classmate's eyes was less discriminate but just as much, if not more so, unforgiving.

And her eyes?

Stabbing into the first-year half-hobbling, half-running away.

"I am going to fucking _gut_ him."

(Kawakami didn't doubt it—who would doubt Emi when the murder in her eyes was deadly enough to keep their infamous coach from interfering?)

Meanwhile, Eijun was running off and regretting the very moment he was born.

"Why am I related to _her_?!"

— **[ + ] —**

"Here," Kanemaru grinned sinfully, morbid glee written all over his otherwise blank face. The blond nudged the bowl of fruits in his classmate's direction, the first-year pitcher nearly barfing at the sight of even _more_ food. "It's from me and Emi- _san,_ for making it this far. If you don't eat it, she'll be _very_ upset."

Kanemaru had to cut himself off, snickering at Eijun's pain.

"EMI—!" he wailed before he picked up on something. "Wait... why are _you_ calling her 'Emi?!'"

(Eijun's priorities were _a little_ skewed, evidently enough.)

The first-year snatched the offending bowl away from Kanemaru, giving the blond the universal 'I am watching you' gesture until he noticed the sticky note carefully pressed just under the rim of the bowl. Emi's artfully neat scrawl was easily noticeable and legible and Eijun had no problem reading her message.

' _Sorry about yesterday, but you're still an idiot. Eat healthier, moron.'_

"She does love me!"

("I am never getting a girlfriend.")

— **[ + ] —**

Apparently, Emiri had took it upon herself to manage the kitchen— _single-handedly—_ and had quite literally banished every other manager, who were very disgruntled, to the field.

Which, you would think, make the boys feel calmer and _safer_ with her attitude the day previous but the general consensus was: was she poisoning them?

The _onigiri_ she had made on the first day were delicious but Emi looked like bloody, gory massacre wrapped in an innocent, lacy, pristine white bow.

(Their fear was very much understandable.)

So, when the heaps and heaps and _heaps_ of onigiri and other food arrived—hoo, the devil had clearly been out-competed by the teenage girl—they sent out a sacrifice to try the food first.

...Some would argue it was disappointing Sawamura survived but it wasn't like they could send the other first-year first-string members—one being the angelic little brother to a literal demon and the other passed out and limp as a noodle.

"Ungrateful little shits," Emi complained, harrumphed and strutted over to their coach with purposed—probably to complain his ear off. "I should've fucking done it."

...done _what_?!

— **[ + ] —**

"And where do you think you're going?"

Eijun nearly bit his tongue off—ignored Miyuki's sniggering—and twisted his neck around in a way reminiscent of an owl and hissed his cousin's name in surprise.

The sun had dipped low beneath the horizon at this point and countless stars—named and yet to be named by Man—began to illuminate the sky in their signature soft, silver glow with the luminous moon acting as their matron for the duration of their appearance. It was a peaceful, almost quiet night in the busiest of prefectures—that is, Tokyo—and it was definitely time for Emi to be at home.

Coach Kataoka was adamant that she be home by the time the boys settled down to have dinner.

(This was more for the man's sake that Emi's—the shenanigans she pulled on him when he babysat her...)

Still, the mirage of his cousin stood as frowningly as ever—feet drawn hip width apart, hands lightly clinging to her hips and a displeased yet stoic expression gracing her soft features.

Emiri raised a brow challengingly, demanding an answer from her shell-shocked cousin. "Were you not just complaining about not being able to move for the next fifty-odd years?"

"I said fifteen—don't increase the count!" Eijun huffed, "And shouldn't _you_ be at home?"

" _Tou-san_ is running late—had to stay back for work, so I hung out in the office with Rei- _san,"_ Emi shrugged nonchalantly. "If he doesn't text me in the next half hour, I'm calling Shohei- _oji-san_ for a ride home."

Before Eijun could respond with his rather scathing comment of what exactly he thought of Emi calling his Imayoshi- _onii-sama's_ father for a ride home this late, Miyuki swiftly interjected by side-stepping—and hip-checking—the loudmouthed pitcher and faced Emi with his signature grin.

"Great! I was just about to bring these two for a thing."

Emiri raised a brow. "A thing?"

Miyuki's grin widened exponentially. "Yes, a _thing_."

The golden-eyed girl probably shouldn't have trusted the catcher, with his more than implicit double entendre and his shit-eating grin—but then again look at who she dated for four years.

(Shōichi had the feeling someone was shit talking _him_ , of all people, behind his back... Someone was going to feel nothing but _hurt_ for the next few days, or weeks if he has his way.)

And that was how Emi had ended up squished next to Kuramochi with the latter hovering his chin over the girl's shoulder as he tried to explain the different combos and what each button did. Emiri listened with rapt attention—like she was sitting in class—and pointed and asked for him to repeat things for clarification.

The two of them made a rather endearing sight, sitting cross-legged and side by side.

(Kuramochi was thanking every god he could think for the fact that Emi couldn't see his tomato face.)

Also, Isashiki definitely did _not_ somehow wrangle Yuki into placing bets on whether or not Sawamura would freak out when he came back from getting drinks.

The door opened.

3...

2...

1.

"E- _MI_!"

"For the love of every fucking thing that's holy—do you _not_ know how to shut up?! It's easy, make your lips touch and keep them like that."

"But—!"

"Do not speak unless spoken to."

" _Oi_ , I am tryi— _ITAI!"_

"You violated the rule—your fault, not mine."

Kuramochi wheezed, lurching forward so fast he nearly lost the match against Emi. The golden-eyed girl clicked her tongue in disappointment, struggling to play with one hand as she took her other shoes off with her other hand. Her actions weren't questioned, only looked at with a begrudging fondness, as Eijun marched forward with purpose, having shoved the drinks in his hands into his rival's.

(Furuya was startlingly delighted.)

"You're so mean! You're always ignoring m—you _bitch_!"

Emiri had quite literally kicked her cousin away—revealing way more thigh than she should have—with a cry of, "You're making me lose!"

They all snickered at his misfortune—well, Kuramochi cackled but what else was new—considering how small Emi's stature was.

The air in the room was crackling with bursts of laughter—a bright quality about it, and all their features were lit up with something if not mostly fondness and sheer delight with how things were going. The only one who wasn't happy was the resident loudmouth pitcher who was sulking over Emi's choice to ignore him and her bullying—his Emi- _nee_ was so mean now—it wasn't _fair_.

But well, all happy moments come to an end.

And in this case, Emi had lost and had just remembered how her baby cousin had addressed her.

"I just realized that you called me a _fucking_ bitch."

Eijun flailed. "I didn't call you a fucking bitch! I just said bitch!"

... _Dumbass._

"So, you admit to calling me a fucking bitch then."

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh, I beg to fucking differ."

"But I didn't say that!"

Emi narrowed her eyes dangerously, and jabbed a manicured nail in his direction rather viciously.

(Emiri looked like she was going to jab his eyes out.)

"I have _literally_ known you since I was born—and I don't even fucking know why I spend so much time with you since you're the literal definition of annoying _as fuck_ but I'm here, aren't I, bitch? And you have the _audacity_ to refer to me in such a derogatory manner... First of all, how _fucking_ dare you."

...There really was a double standard with this girl.

(Or maybe Eijun had just triggered a part of her she usually kept for when she was crying over Shōichi.)

"...You still don't love me?"

...Smart. Real _smart_.

" _I_ don't love you? Really, that's what the fuck we're doing right now—first of fucking all—"

"You're so mean," Eijun whined, "Why can't you be nicer to me?"

("This is _hilarious_ ," Kuramochi wheezed and was not so gently elbowed and shushed by Isashiki.)

"Why can't you smarten the fuck up?"

" _Geh_!" Eijun clutched his chest, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "How could you?!"

"Eijun, darling"—Emi's tone was more sarcastic than loving— "you're stupid as shit."

" _OI_!"

"Fine... I'm sorry—that was offensive to shit."

"You _devil_!"

Emi just rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders, leaning back languidly. "At least you know why I'm hot as Hell—ooh. It's Shōichi."

"What?! Give me that!"

Eijun lunged for the phone but Emi rolled out of the way—and Eijun landed squarely on Kuramochi.

 _Yikes_.

It took thirty seconds for Emi to type out a response and send it off.

It took Kuramochi _three_ to have Eijun screaming bloody murder and _mercy_.

When Emiri looked up from her phone, Kuramochi had Eijun in an armbar, whilst everyone else ignored the struggling boy. The girl _really_ tried to find some semblance of sympathy or compassion in her heart but... Well, at least she tried right?

It was the effort that counted for something, right?

...Was that even the saying?

Emiri didn't really care about this point, suddenly feeling drained of energy—as she always did post-dealing with her cousins—and simply shrugged nonchalantly, headed for the door and offered fleeting waves to her new acquaintances and temporary teammates.

( _That_ word left a bitter taste in her mouth.)

"I'm off! Him and his dad are picking me up and dropping me off—Eijun, don't get hurt too much. It was nice meeting you, Kuramochi, Nakata, and Furuya- _kun."_

Like always, Emi abandoned her struggling cousin.

— **[ + ] —**

Much to everyone's relief, Emiri was in a decidedly better mood for the rest of the week—no one knew why but no one was brave enough to ask either.

If Chris, who she seemed to adore as much as Eijun adored the third-year, and Coach Kataoka were non-plus about her attitude, the team was too.

They were still curious, being the bunch of nosy bastards, they were.

But they had witnessed her wrath first hand and they valued baseball and their lives more than some gossip.

— **[ + ] —**

In a true Sawamura family trait, Emi crashed the private "war meeting" before the much awaited Seidō vs. Kiryuu game unceremoniously in the indoor gym area. In short, she'd slammed the door open loudly and with too much force—so much so that she nearly fell over—meaning she nearly flashed everyone present.

Which, wasn't really something they wanted—or well, Kataoka didn't want that.

But the rest? Depraved boys chalked full of raging hormones that weren't allowed to take effect because the boys denied anything but baseball-related shit?

They gawked—heat flushing their faces and crimson painting their features prettily.

And in a true Nakano Emiri fashion, the girl clawed at the side of the door she'd practically rammed down and yelled, " _Fuck_!"

"Emiri."

Kataoka was _less_ than disapproving if his glower was anything to go by—more heated than usual, and maybe a tad exasperated.

"Oh, fuck off, I'm almost seventeen," Emi grumbled loudly, brushing herself off and adjusting her clothes and the items she had on hand.

" _Emiri_."

"I have information," she placated half-heartedly, raising her palms in the universal _I surrender_ gesture after tucking her little black nail kit bag and phone in her armpits. Kataoka's face of displeasure and disapproval would've made anyone else quake in fear but Emi—the weird little shit, and little was her height lightly—was completely and utterly unfazed.

(Kataoka regretted spoiling her toddler ass so bloody much.)

"So Kiryuu are a bunch of heavy hitter but that much is obvious," Emi nearly tripped over the equipment. "But they're a team that doesn't really think for themselves—their coach gives them all their signs and instructions and they don't move against his orders. In a way, it's their coach that's technically playing for them... What else? Oh, their pitcher is easily intimidated by long hitters because he's like Furuya—he throws with all his weight but his balls are heavy—that sounds dirty."

Emi paused, looking up from her phone and pausing from her scrolling. She seemed to contemplate something, eyes focused elsewhere before she breathed out a short laugh and finally focused on them.

(The things she could've said if she had been with her girl friends and not in front of a bunch of boys...)

"…Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Why do you have information on Osaka's Kiryuu?" The team, or actually, the team members that were present had let their coach succinctly express their thoughts.

"Oh," was Emi's smart reply. "I have a friend in Osaka that knows some members of the team—but she goes to a different school now but she still keeps in touch with them—anyways, she loves me more so I just asked and she gave."

The dark-haired girl shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Back to Kiryuu... where was I? Oh, yes, so Tachi Hiromi is their starting pitcher—third-year, also pitched in last year's Koshien as well as this year's Senbatsu, relief then ace respectively. Although starting in spring of last year, he started pitching at least four innings per game. Despite his appearance he's actually relatively shy and since the coach calls most of the plays, he's pretty reliant on the coach... Let's see... What else?"

The dark-haired girl drummed the fingers of her free-hand on her thigh, as she squinted at her phone and brought it closer. She shifted more of her weight onto her right leg, humming an odd tune without any real rhythm. Chris managed to snap out of his stupor, quietly walking over to his _kohai_ to lean down slightly and peer over her shoulder.

"Are you—Are you sure this... friend is _actually_ a friend of the Kiryuu team?"

In Chris' defense, it looked like this person _hated_ Kiryuu because the descriptions were a little too detailed and mixed with a plethora of profanity—maybe even more than the usual Emi would spew.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Emi waved Chris' concern away with a flippant wave. "Suga is just generally annoyed with them most of the time but they pissed her off recently and she's one vindictive bitch so..."

Chris quirked a brow at her oddly and Emi just shrugged in reply before elaborating. "She's mouthy when she's angry."

Miyuki meandered over, curious but more than happy to exploit any other team's weakness and gestured somewhat politely for her phone. Emi handed it over with barely a glance in his direction, choosing to just fall back into Chris. The third-year floundered for a moment, and then caught her shoulders, while Miyuki scrolled through the info with renewed focus.

"Emiri."

"Yeah?" Emi looked away from Chris' panicked expression above her face and over to the statuesque figure of the coach.

"Get off of Chris."

"Fine..." Emi muttered, pushing off of Chris with a palm against the catcher's abs with a childish pout on her face. "I want Shōichi..."

"Well, a 'Shōichi' just texted?" Miyuki added, somewhat helpfully—he wasn't really amused to be disturbed in the middle of his data gathering but he had Emi to thank for the data anyways—he could play nice. For now.

"Hand me my phone, _bitch_."

"Emiri—" Kataoka began sharply, brows furrowing as his lips dipped into a frown.

"But it's _Shōichi_."

( _Whipped_. If they meant how Kataoka wilted at Emi's whine or how the girl reacted to the sound of boy's name—that wasn't Sawamura. So... Drama either way _._ )

"Oh, that _ass,_ " Emi hissed, her face twisted so much in annoyance she looked disgusted. She carelessly tossed her phone back to Miyuki after blitzing through sending a text back. "How did he know that anyway?"

In truth, she wasn't really unhappy, it was just that his freaky psychic abilities were, frankly, _freaky_. Still, her needy ass was going through a withdrawal, having not talked, well, texted, him in the past two days.

(She would never be able to even think of cutting ties with him. _Never._ )

The catcher fully expected a thanks from the girl because if it weren't for his refined skill in catching, she would be paying out her cute ass to get the screen fixed.

"Well," Emi began, tucking a non-descript, small black travelling bag under her arm further. "I'm leaving. I have to go and manicure Eijun's ugly ass nails."

"Oh!" Miyuki glanced up from her phone, half sharing it with Chris despite it being in the second-year's loose but firm grasp. "Can you do Furuya's too?"

"Who?"

"The other first-year pitcher."

" _Him_ ," Emi oohed, one foot out the doorway and her body angled to remain mostly inside. "Does he really need it though? He already throws like a monster?"

Before Miyuki could snipe another smart reply at her, Kataoka interrupted. "It's your duty as a manager to help this team function as well as possible."

"He's a prodigy? What kind of prodigy doesn't take care of themselves—I know there are those who slack off but they know how to maintain themselves. Come _on_ , Shin- _nii,_ it's basic human life skills."

("Shin- _nii_?")

No one dared to throw her statement back at her in regards to the loudmouthed first-year pitcher.

Mainly because Eijun was no prodigy—he was unique for sure—but he was very much a diamond in the rough. _Very_ much so. And secondly, people often spoiled their romantic partners so it was nice to see the girl doing something romantic instead of sadistic for a change.

 _Gag._

It's important to note here that other than Chris, Haruichi—and probably Ryosuke—as well as Kataoka himself, everyone else thought that the loudmouthed pitcher was in a relationship with a girl that was so _tsundere_ she could possibly pass as _yandere_.

(Shirasu was still comforting a disappointed Nori when the two weren't in varying amounts of pain and soreness.)

And without another glance back at the assembly, Emi pranced off to find her annoying as shit cousin, humming under her breath.

"I should call him— _wait_. Where the fuck did I put my phone?"

— **[ + ] —**

So, when the Kiryuu game came around, Emi, for once, had not been at Seidō hounding after her cousin's stubborn ass as both Chris and Kataoka watched out with begrudging fondness, both expressing their exasperation with the girl.

Instead, Emi had startled awake—and fell out of her bed.

" _Fuck_!"

"Emi- _chan_!"

Emiri glared petulantly at her closed door, as if her mother—who had chastised her—was right behind it. Her golden eyes were narrowed with an annoyance that was in part due to her mother's hypocrisy—she got her mouth from her mother, thanks—and in another part wondering why in the ever-loving _fuck_ was she getting up at this ungodly hour on a blessed Saturday morning.

Emi's hand slammed countless times against the top of her nightstand searching for the blasted slim piece of technology that was shrieking like a banshee she called a phone to check out which satanic hour of the morning it was.

For all the sunshine pouring through it could've very well been the afternoon but on weekends, any hour was considered unholy unless Emiri awoke without loud noises _thank you very much_.

 _What the actual fuck_.

It wasn't even _twelve_.

(That might've been a new record for her lazy ass.)

And, of course, in the ways of a true procrastinator, groaned long-sufferingly, slammed her head uncaringly into the floor—although she muttered several choice words under her breath—and firmly decided that she was going to sleep on the floor. The floor was cool and comfy enough anyways—no harsh light barging in from the window and between the blinds, even further away from the heat of the sun and pressed against a smooth, albeit hard, cool surface.

What more could a girl ask for?

Emiri flopped onto her stomach, shoving her arms this way and that to find a semi-comfortable position that provided just enough support and softness for her to fall deeply into her beloved Morpheus' arms.

(Well, Hypnos, if we're being accurate here.)

Still, sleep eluded her as her mind unfortunately buzzed to life—questioning what sort of thrice-damned, rotten to the core, purely demonic entity had possessed her to wake up before two on a Saturday—

" _Motherfucker_!"

"Emi- _chan_!"

"When did you start swearing?" Emi sniped under her breathe, wriggling out her blanket burrito as best she could—managing to somehow due a one-legged can-can folk dance hybrid that certainly didn't originate in Japan, if not Asia.

Shin- _nii_ was going to murder her ass—especially since he specifically told her to set an alarm for nine-thirty, for some last-minute devising of tactics and what not at around eleven—eleven-thirty, and it was currently pushing eleven.

And she was still at home—not showered, dressed and _starving_.

(The _horror_.)

Emi groaned and slammed her forehead into the floor and immediately regretted it when she got a headache. She knew she shouldn't have put her phone on vibrate—or learned how to instinctively press the snooze button.

Now...

Was she going to forego the traditional fluffy waffles her mother made every Saturday?

Emi paused, face scrunching at her own thoughts.

Screw being late, how dare she entertain the thought of _not_ eating?

(What kind of blasphemy...)

"Shin- _nii_ can shoot me, I'm not giving my waffles up to _tou-san_ of all the unworthy cretins."

Emiri put her phone on _do not disturb_ for the entirety of her fully-deserved and lengthy breakfast and completely ignored the list of texts and calls she'd gotten during her period at home.

 _Fuck_ them, she wasn't their real manager.

(She wasn't ready to make that commitment again.)

— **[ + ] —**

Like she had predicted, Kataoka, or Shin- _nii_ to Emi, was utterly unimpressed and maybe just a _little_ bit pissed off.

"You're late."

"Sue me," Emi snipped back breezily and everyone in the dugout collectively _choked_.

The girl had some _serious_ balls, they would give her that.

Emiri squeezed into her spot beside Chris on the dugout's bench and throwing her arms over the third-year catcher, allowing her entire weight to rest on him. The dark-haired girl completely ignored the bemused but irritated glower Kataoka threw over her shoulder. The third-year catcher slipped an arm around her shoulder in an ephemeral hug, patting her back amicably before setting his arm back down.

But Emi refused to stop hugging him.

Kataoka's couldn't but side-eye the girl who was cozying up to one of his players and exhaled sharply through his nose.

Why was Emiri such a fucking handful?

"Stop cuddling Chris."

"He's comfy," Emi whined, clinging onto the third-year catcher even more.

It spoke volumes of the girl's touchiness that Chris' blush was now near non-existent. Recalling the incident earlier in the week with the regular second-year catcher only made Kataoka glower at the Kiryuu baseman who stiffened immediately and started sweating profusely at the Seidō's coach deadly glare. It wasn't like Kataoka hadn't expected Emi's need for contact, she had always been a child that demanded hugs and had very keen to work with her hands, and in all honesty, he had little doubt that that would change—in fact, he hoped she wouldn't change so much from the little girl that adored him.

Whenever a toddler Emi had seen him, she would squeal and demand up so that she could ride his shoulders.

Being nearly seventeen now, he knew Emi wouldn't ask for such a thing anymore—if not as often—but still.

She needed to stop allowing boys to touch her so callously—the stupid ones would think of it as an okay or a yes.

And that was something he was completely against.

(Kiryuu's third baseman wanted to _cry_ with how Seidō's coach was glaring at him—he hadn't done anything!)

Chris nudged the grinning Emi's side, though the girl tried to hide her mischievous smile by biting on her lip. The hazel-eyed teen shook his head fondly but kept his eyes on the current happenings of the game. "You need to stop distracting the coach."

"It's not my fault his attention span is so short," Emi said hotly, and a touch too loud.

"Brat."

"Says _you_ of all people," Emi retorted, pushing her frizzy curls and half-curls away from her face, her full-blown pout taking its full affect as Kataoka chose to ignore her once again.

Meanwhile, Chris found himself distracted with the girl now, taking in her hair. It was still as dark as pitch black, yet it wasn't pin straight. She had little corkscrew curls, mixed in with fluffy ringlets and frizzy loose waves. Her hair wasn't perfect and meticulous as he had come to know it as yet...

Yet he couldn't help but think how ethereal she looked.

The _clang_ of the bat shattered his little fantasy and Chris returned his attention back to the game, stifling the urge to draw his fingers through Emi's dark hair.

(It suited her craziness.)

— **[ + ] —**

A sleepy Emi wasn't a very helpful or nice Emi.

(Eijun would like to put in the argument that Emiri was _never_ nice. _Never_.)

This scientific fact was further proven by her very loud and very blunt commentary.

"Hah, _bitch_!" Emi crowed, and Chris had to shove his fist in his mouth to muffle his laughter. "I guess all your good traits got sucked into looks and not into skill."

Miyuki timidly trotted into the dugout, ears red and an embarassed—but still shit-eating—grin on his face.

"You're really bad at rounding bases on and off the field, huh?"

" _Emiri_."

"Sue me—I'm not sorry."

Kuramochi was going to fucking _die_ because of this girl and the shortstop didn't think he would ever regret it if his cause of death was noted as Nakano Emiri.

"Riot" was a very, very, _very_ poor description of her.

Miyuki tried to needler her a bit, but Emi was either ignorant when she was sleepy or she really didn't care to grace the catcher with an opinion. That and Eijun was running perimeter security around Emiri—something he was oddly more focused on then the actual game.

Of course, Miyuki exploited this.

And Emi joined in too.

(She was always in a better mood when she and Shōichi temporarily made up—slept better too, and sleep was something she had very little of these days.)

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Y'all... I am so, so, _so_ sorry and embarrassed about my lack of updates thus far. I wanted to finish the SEido vs. Kiryuu game but I lost my steam for that and my pride got the best of me. Like, if it weren't for you sweet, sweet, _sweet_ people who asked me if I was okay and were so eager for this update, I would've done it my way and made y'all wait for like another month if not more. I'm a shitty, prideful person. I'm sorry. School's been a pain in the ass too, if I could put some blame on something. Like senior year high school and final year of the IB Program is _not_ it, Sis... My dumbass too dumb for this but I'm too stubborn and prideful to drop out of IB so I'm stuck in this figurative Hell. Also, to the dear reviewer who asked for this as Halloween treat, it's Halloween on my end so I hope that counts? If it's not Halloween where you are, I am _so_ sorry. And most of all, I hope y'all enjoyed this 11.5k dose of Emi. I missed this bitch too. **


	10. Chapter X — Here, There and Everywhere

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter X — Here, There and Everywhere**

* * *

 _Things never really go the way you expect them. Even if they do, there are always kinks in the path._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Much like everyone else, Eijun was kicking up a storm at Miyuki's batting—rather, his lack thereof. While many of the starters were accustomed to Miyuki's less than stellar performance without runners, the first years—and Emiri—weren't.

So Eijun's pissed off reaction was understandable.

"Furuya's dead and that catcher with goggles is useless—that means I have to play!" Eijun roared, waddling out the dugout with a bat slung over his shoulder and eyes in a cat-like glare.

Em wasn't here for Miyuki's shit nor was she here for Eijun's shit.

"Get your ass back inside! _Now_!"

"But—But—!"

"No, ifs, ands or buts—get the fuck in here!"

...Emiri really wondered where Eijun was getting the balls to stare her down.

(He used to cry when she was mad at him.)

"...Do you want me to go out there?" Emi threatened and Eijun flinched.

"She's right, Sawamura! Shut up and sit down!"

"Bu-But Kuramochi- _senpai—!"_

"Sawamura, listen to Nakano."

"Even Chris- _senpai_?!"

"Eijun- _kun_ , please just listen to Emi- _san_."

"Haruchi, you traitor— _geh_!" Emi, evidently having enough of his bullshit at such an early hour for her, had slinked over to the dugout's stairs, up them, and grabbed her cousin's collar roughly.

The first-year was turning a vivid shade of purple—reminiscent of another _kohai's_ of Emi's hair—and was currently quiet, much to everyone's delight. Eijun could be sweet and sincere but his volume left much to be desired at times. The current moment being one of them.

With one last stern look at her cousin, Emi returned to her seat—with a quick, exasperated nod to Chris—beside the other first-year pitcher.

Eijun's unofficial-official rival, Furuya Satoru, was a bit of a pretty boy in Emi's opinion. He was taller than her loudmouth cousin, paler with darker eyes and hair. His physique was mix of a wiry and lean but leaning more towards skinny. Based on her earlier observations of the boy, his anti-social—or rather, quiet—persona and lack of people skills pointed towards a... monotonous social life.

As in, Emi didn't think he had much friends back where he was from—Hokkaido, she remembered but she couldn't remember if he lived in Sapporo or not—if he even had any.

Not to mention the number of well-known or known baseball teams from there were... lacking.

It wasn't like Emiri could judge him, seeing as she had barely any friends in elementary—of which she was introduced to via her little cousin. But it wasn't like he was better than her since Emi could actually interact with people.

Although she was a _bitch_.

So, if she was a little amused by Furuya's pouting, and quiet grumbling, _sue_ her.

The tall first-year had his arms crossed, frowning and glaring at Miyuki like a petulant child. "That makes zero hits from _him_ so far..."

Fortunately for Miyuki, Kuramochi's bright, distinctive laughter and jeers hid Furuya's biting remark rather well. Unfortunately for Furuya, he was close enough to Emi that the girl overheard him and snorted, lifting her lazy ass up from her lounging position. The golden-eyed girl simply cocked a brow at Furuya, bracing herself against the bench's edges with a slight curl of her manicured fingers.

"When was the last time you struck someone out?"

...Furuya, much like Eijun, sulked at Emi's venom.

Well, Emi's words weren't necessarily venomous, per say, more so that she was unafraid to hurt feelings and aim for the soft exposed joints that the boys attempted to hide. Her weapons were sharp words and bony joints—and she had frightening accuracy that didn't seem like her.

(You learned a couple things when you kept the company Emi kept—like pissing people off. Royally.)

A lazy smirk curled Emiri's lips ever so slightly, a devilish gleam in her delicate features and upsetting the frosty first-year even more—his cheeks' soft blush darkening and ripening just like an apple.

(Miyuki was already enough of a demon, thank you very much.)

The girl snickered quietly, satisfied with his embarrassment. Her smirk morphed into a smile when her _kohai_ hunched in on himself, crossing his arms tighter and shifting away from her. A rush of delight zipped through her veins, pleased with his disgruntlement—and it showed. Emi's toes wiggled in her socks, having toed her shoes off for a comfier nap, as she kicked her feet lackadaisically.

She could feel Shin- _nii's_ displeased and maybe just a touch annoyed, disapproving stare, at her lack of a footwear but had she ever bended to his whims?

No.

"From before I got here, you'd given up—what? Eleven runs and seven hits?" Emi asked rhetorically. "It's _not_ all you... But if you worked on your accuracy as much as you did actually throwing, you could've had more options—even if you're fatigued. You're still new to the training regime so you're not getting any shit from the _senpai_ but seriously—get on their fucking level? This is Seidō."

Emiri could feel Shin- _nii's_ disapproving glare digging into her temple except he couldn't really scold her for telling the truth.

What good was a one trick pony as an athlete?

(There was trampling and then there was a slaughter but either or weren't exactly nice to picture happening to someone.)

Moreover, it was really weird for the upperclassmen to _not_ be talking shit. Especially Isashiki. It was either the _senpai_ were that considerate or—judging from Miyuki's smug smile the entire time—the starting catcher had conned everyone into following his whims.

It was probably the latter rather than the former.

But—But! Furuya was eyeing her in wonder—no doubt from her advice—and seemed to be mulling over her words, quietly brooding at her side.

Other than that, she didn't get much of a reaction out of him.

(Ugh. _Boring_.)

Now bored with Furuya, Emi lazily turned her attention to the game. It wasn't like she didn't find baseball exciting, it was plenty interesting once she willingly immersed herself in it, but she was used to a faster-paced game.

Admittedly, the up and downs were pretty fast when you had a reliable pitcher on the mound.

As exemplified by one Tachi Hiromi—who had just taken out Sakai, and was very comfortably and energetically strutting back to the opposite dugout, his teammates hooting and hollering all the way there.

Miyuki had one foot out the dugout, several other members helping him strap the catcher's gear on, while Furuya readjusted his cap and breathed. The other third and second years were adjusting their own caps and gloves, taking swigs of water and preparing for the switch.

Inwardly, Emi was judging the fuck out of everyone.

It was a _practice_ game. Key word being "practice." As in, it would suck— _greatly—_ if they lost but ultimately? It was better to win the war than win the battle. Yet, if there was one thing that Emi had learned to be as proud of as her _enthusiastically_ athletic friends, it was to be proud of her own pride.

(If that made sense.)

So, she thought they were being ridiculous, being so worked up over a _practice_ game, she understood, in the slightest bit, where they were coming from.

"Emiri."

Lazily, Emi lolled her head to the side, making eye contact with Kataoka—who was glaring at her from the corner of his eye—through lidded, golden irises.

More or less, he was pissed at her.

(Like, pissed _pissed_.)

"If you're going to nap all day then get out. I don't need you."

"First of all, I didn't even want to be here," Emi held a hand, and straightening her back. "You wanted me to be here—I already gave you the freebie information but what did you say? 'Emiri, come for tomorrow's scrimmage' and I was like 'Why the fuck?' and you said _and I quote_ , 'Just do it.'"

...Her impression of Kataoka was really funny, the first string had to admit.

(And really hard not to laugh at, but Coach Kataoka was in the dugout out with them.)

"And also, can I say that I think it's really unfair you're taking your dissatisfaction out on me? Furuya's doing shit right now and that's technically your fault with the training menu and all. You could blame Kiryuu, seeing as they're practically his nemesis since they probably practice with Tachi—the weight Furuya puts on his pitch is worth about jackshit to them, and his speed is absolute bullshit right now..."

(A sleepy Emi was a sassy Emi.)

"Anything else you'd like to tell us?" Chris prompted, with a raise of his brow. While he was curious about Emiri's observations, his question was more to diffuse the situation if anything.

Kataoka looked ready to throttle her.

(But seriously... Where did she get the balls to talk to the coach like that?)

Emi squinted at her _senpai_. "Overall? I mean, good job seeing as you're all dead tired. You're making do with how sore your bodies are and less than stellar energy reserves but you're not going to win this game. Kiryuu is well rested, their movements are fluid and control amazing since they're not swinging even though they probably have the urge to... Their summer training is probably a heavy focus on practice games with a side of game simulation, weight training and cardio... To be short and sweet as myself? They're gonna hit pitches and make it rain _balls_ in the outfield."

In the bustle of getting ready for the defensive switch and actually moving onto the pitch, Emiri's analysis was lost to very many. Except, of course, Chris who had asked the question, Kataoka himself—who was proud of her, and not showing it else he feed her ego—Ota, Rei and Miyuki. While the other members of the coaching staff regarded her with surprise—because she had been half-asleep if not actually asleep the whole time—Chris had actually committed her commentary to paper.

Miyuki, on the other hand, simply grinned as he regarded his peer and finished fiddling with the protective gear. As his hand came down to secure the face mask over his pretty face, Miyuki couldn't help but observe the ease the golden-eyed girl was at.

Emi was _bored_.

You could see it the way she spoke, the way she sat and the way she acted.

She'd sat her pretty ass down to wait out the inevitable loss, as she so predicted—and which was probably likely with the scores—and wasn't about to waste energy on, what she deemed, a trivial match. It was like she knew what was going to happen the moment she arrived.

Maybe from the data she got from her friend?

He couldn't help but grin as he jogged over to home plate and crouched back down for the _quiet_ , temperamental first-year.

(Emi really was fun.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri had to laugh when Furuya threw his first real strike of the game.

It didn't even deserve to be called a proper pitch in her opinion—like, she could hit that.

And her hand-eye coordination wasn't the best.

"I like him—I really like him," Emi admitted to herself, eyeing the catcher and her peer.

"Emi!"

That sounded like Eijun, so she probably wasn't as quiet as she had initially thought. She didn't care for the other first-stringers giving her the stink-eye or gaping at her but even Shin- _nii_ was giving her a look of disapproval.

"It was a bloody comment—I don't have a crush on him. Holy fuck."

(Shin- _nii_ was _so_ dramatic.)

She liked Miyuki in a superficial sense. The dark-haired girl would definitely say he was attractive in almost a pretty way—a little too rough on the edges, in her opinion, to really be called a pretty. But more than anything, she found herself begrudgingly fond of his cheeky attitude. He was an asshole, like Shōichi, but on the nicer end of the spectrum. But speaking of Shōichi, Emiri didn't think she'd ever view Miyuki in a romantic sense, maybe even in a platonic sense because she find herself comparing him to Shōichi many times.

Too many—so much so that it made her uncomfortable. But she missed Shōichi, even if they always ended up fighting whenever they talked to each other now, so sue her if she was projecting some of her longing onto the catcher.

(It disgusted her too—no one deserved to be seen as a replacement.)

But Miyuki was fun, he liked to play the game like she did so really—sue her. Because she couldn't help the warm feeling that seeped into her chest-cavity when she saw how Miyuki played and fucked with the other team. It was the one thing she and Shōichi always teamed up to do, even when they were in a disagreement with everything else.

(Shōichi was crueler, more sadistic and unforgiving though; he didn't just like winning, he _slaughtered_ when he could.)

"Nakano?"

"It's Emi, Chris- _senpai,_ " Emi corrected yet again, deciding to flop into Chris' lap. The older boy just gave her a fond look of exasperation despite his mild discomfort. The third-year simply patted her head in a comforting gesture, noting that his _kohai_ wasn't in the particular mood to listen to him.

"Chris."

The third-year looked up to see his coach looking at him disapprovingly from the top of his shades. "Stop indulging her."

Even without Kataoka gesturing to the girl in question, he knew Emiri was already half asleep in his lap, seemingly drained for whatever reason. Oblivious, or rather, ignoring, Kataoka's ire with her—because Shin- _nii_ could never hate her—she lazily watched through lidded, golden eyes at Furuya's form.

He was tall but she'd seen taller. The first-year pitcher was a bit leaner than her cousin, and their personalities were flipped as well as the blatancy of their skill set. His furious, roaring fastballs had a lot of weight to them from what she'd observed and were, more or less, Furuya throwing as hard as he could. His pitching form, Emi had noticed, was heavily centred around him throwing his weight into the pitch.

Well, it looked like that to her.

There was the possibility that she was wrong, considering baseball wasn't her sport but she was learning.

Emiri watched him pitch in the wind-up position—the big kick out, the forward turn of the hips, and the whipping motion of the arm—

She sat up abruptly, almost hitting Chris in the jaw. The third-year managed to stop her head from hitting his chin with his free hand, breathing a sigh of relief as he did so. But on to more pressing matter—

"Did Miyuki just miss that ball?" Emi blinked furiously, rubbing her eyes and trying to dispel the image.

Nope, it was still there. The starting catcher was staring over his shoulder at the ball rolling aimlessly. Tachi was stunned, staring at it too, like it'd come alive and jump him. Furuya on the other hand was confused. Just. Confused.

Emiri slapped a hand over her forehead, the sound resounding through the now quiet dugout, all staring in shock. "That moron threw the wrong ball didn't he?"

Chris raised a brow and opened his mouth, but Emi just pressed her fingertips to his lips, already knowing what his question was. "Miyuki panicked for a second before the ball changed its directory. He probably wanted it to drop earlier or wanted a slower pitch."

Nodding, Chris tapped her wrist—the one attached to the hand whose fingertips were still pressed to his lips. Emi retracted her hand with a quick apology before settling back down in his lap.

(And wasn't that daunting? That he was getting used to such intimate contact with such a capricious girl.)

"Miyuki... He really knows how to be bold."

Emiri breathed out a laugh, smiling up at Chris to which the older boy returned.

"He's an asshole," Emi emphasized, closing her eyes and getting ready for another nap. "But the kind you'd _like_ to have on your team."

Then she shot right back up—and nearly knocked the third-year catcher out—when Kataoka mentioned her cousin.

"Wait a fucking minute—hold the _fuck_ up," Emi cut through the air with her hands, suddenly revitalized and no longer lounging in Chris' lap. "Shin- _nii_ you're actually subbing the moron in—as in Sawamura Eijun _the_ Moron?"

Her cousin made an indignant noise in the back of his throat, a matching pout contorting his once-enthusiastic face. Eijun already had to deal with bloody Furuya and the _senpai_ , he didn't need anymore shit from Emi.

"Sawamura, you're subbing in as pitcher once Furuya has batted," Kataoka commanded, ignoring Emiri. The brat was really beginning to grate on his nerves but it wasn't like he could sit her out in a timeout like he used to.

Emiri acted like a child—especially to annoy him—but she'd grown up a lot in the almost eleven years they'd been a part.

(He was feeling really, _really_ old now, whenever he looked at her, a teenager and all.)

Emi shot the two pitchers—one current and the other retired—withering looks. Eijun, because he was freaking out and looked half dead from panicking despite the fact he hadn't even stepped an inch onto the diamond. Little Kominato—her favourite _kohai_ —had unintentionally made Eijun's panic spike and Miyuki was doing a jackshit job of calming him down, only riling him up further.

' _But that's good...'_ Emi mentally noted _, 'At least his mind is off pitching for now.'_

Eijun always fucked up whenever he thought too much.

Maybe she should make him a sign that said: "Be the idiot you don't think you are."

But then again... He probably wouldn't get it with her wording...

Ah. Maybe it should say: " _Bakamura_."

To be clear, Emiri wasn't making fun of him. No, she just wanted to remind her baby cousin that his idiocy was a strong point because he wouldn't fight off Miyuki—who was a dastardly tactician—and his signs. Then again, the sign probably should say: "Listen to Miyuki" but Eijun would refuse to follow that because it was, and Emi would quote Eijun, "Miyuki Kazuya, the _tanuki_ bastard."

 _Idiot_.

Emi shook her head fondly, watching her cousin gnash his teeth over Furuya and Miyuki. While she didn't really approve of her Shin- _nii's_ decision to sub in Eijun, there wasn't much she could do to stop the switch.

But she could annoy the ever living fuck out of Kataoka.

"Wahhh... Shin- _nii,_ are you going through a mid-life crisis?" Emi poked harshly. "I know things with Miya- _nee_ didn't work out so I get you feel the need to act out but isn't this a little much?"

...If only Kataoka could pick her up and throw her like he used to.

(Kuramochi bit down on his hand to keep from laughing.)

Chris gently nudged the more awake girl with his elbow, aiming for just under her ribs. If Emi felt the assault, her facial expression didn't give anything away as her face still donned her disbelieving and shocked expression. The golden-eyed girl began kicking her leg back and forth, the quiet thump lost in the noise.

"Eijun and Furuya are relatively okay pitchers but they lack any real experience," Emi noted, rubbing one hand over her face and looking like the life had been sucked from her body. "Their talents are, again, okay but Eijun's talent... I wouldn't even really call it a talent at this point because it's practically useless."

What was the point in having a newbie pitcher with a hard-to-hit, moving fastball when that same pitcher had about zero control and zero game sense?

The golden-eyed girl nibbled her lip as she articulated her thoughts, bouncing her leg in tandem with her heart beat. "I don't think Shin- _nii_ is very focused on teaching Eijun anything at the moment so the only real reason he's putting him up on the mound is probably a confirmation."

Chris let his hazel gaze rest on Emi's side-profile, scrutinizing her relaxed posture but contemplative, eyebrow-pinched expression. "Confirmation?"

"That he made the right decision," Emi clarified automatically. "I don't think that the first string is lacking in pitchers nor do I think that Eijun's skill set is impressive—certainly not impressive enough to warrant a form of favouritism. Frankly, I don't see why he's in first-string—in fact I would question Eijun's position even if he was in second string. I mean, make no mistake, sometimes the more subtle talent can end up more useful than the flashy one but is it a viable option? Is the risk worth it? The goal, after all, is taking nationals."

Rei turned her own cool gaze to stare at the girl.

Kataoka had been fairly vague about his connection to the small girl with a sharp tongue and crass mouth. While she would be the first to admit that Emiri was valuable—she had never seen someone so shockingly efficient in performing managerial duties—she didn't quite understand what was so valuable about her. But now? Rei thought she was beginning to understand how unique Emi was.

Rei likened her to Miyuki—a more ill-tempered version of Miyuki—with her mouth and her apparent analytical abilities. Although more sociable and cooperative. She wasn't athletic, vehemently doing anything physically exerting unless Sawamura tried her temper but she was well-versed with athletes' habits.

And in the short time she'd been with the baseball team, she'd already picked up on some of the boys' habits—offhandedly mentioning them to Kataoka when she'd come around to annoy him.

(And wasn't that shocking? She'd never seen the man put up with anyone like that—he had nearly kicked someone off the team for much, _much_ less.)

Emiri sighed through her nose, leaning all her weight onto Chris as Eijun jogged out onto the field.

"Don't die!"

Eijun whipped around and gave her a catty glare, grunting in frustration.

Emi just laughed—bright and uncaring—and dismissed him with an easy wave.

Thank God, this was a practice game.

(Or else, she'd tear his head off.)

— **[ + ] —**

"Is it bad that I'm nervous?"

Chris chuckled, and patted Emi's head sympathetically. "Weren't you fine just a minute ago?"

"Yeah, but that was before he messed up his fucking catchphrase," Emi pressed both her palms to her face and inadvertently yanking at her cheeks in her frustration. "He is going to make a fool out of all us... Bitch, I am scared."

"Nakano—"

Emiri whimpered quietly and shook Chris' comforting hand away from her head.

"Emi—"

"My reputation is on the line," Emi hissed, beginning to pull on her hair. "How the fuck am I going to face Suga once this idiot immortalizes himself as clown in Kiryuu's mind—she is going to laugh her pretty, blonde ass off."

"Emi." Chris said firmly, patting her head a little roughly. He didn't exactly want to hurt her but she was really out of it. The dark-haired girl made a sound in the back of her throat between a whine and a whimper and just sank back into Chris' chest.

"He's going to fuck up—I can _feel_ it."

It was eerie, seeing her spooked like this and maybe a little funny.

Emiri stopped breathing when Eijun settled into the wind-up position, hand already grasping the ball.

"...I fucked up a lot in the past but please don't let that shit manifest now... Suga isn't going to let me hear the end of that shit. Fuck her." Emi shook her head despondently. "And seriously... Fuck that coach."

And then the ball smacked into Miyuki's glove and Emi began breathing again. "Holy shit, he got a strike... Maybe this won't be so bad."

Chris continued to pat her head reassuringly as he filled in the playbook. As much as he wanted to comfort Emi, it wouldn't due to leave such an important thing blank. Moreover, this was his primary expectation as part of the team—not comforting his—maybe—favourite second year.

(Kataoka was also giving him the stink eye whenever he wasn't watching the game which was terrifying in itself.)

Emi leaned forward as Eijun began his second pitch, eyes glancing everywhere and anywhere as she bit her lips viciously. She could taste the distinct coppery flavour of her blood, but a bleeding lip was of little importance right now. The _clang_ of the bat meeting the ball came all too soon and she watched as it cut through the air—it was too quick.

" _Yosh_! That's one out!"

"Don't be so hasty, Eijun... That's a base hit for sure."

Emi really hated when she was right at times but well, when you were smart, you were _smart_.

"Kiryuu are a bunch of power hitter," Chris murmured to her, words caressing her ear. "A moving fastball means they can get jammed but—"

"Once they make contact, even if it's off, all it'll do is fly forward," Emiri finished, running her fingers through her and only growing more frustrated when her fingers got caught in her curls.

The second batter was up, and Eijun moved into the stretch position.

"He's going to fuck up now, I can _feel_ it."

— **[ + ] —**

"Wahahahaha! You _fell_ for it!"

Eijun began to brag and brag and brag. Emi cracked her knuckles.

"...He did that wrong didn't he?"

"I'm sorry," Chris held his head in his hand as he apologized to Kataoka. He wound an arm around Emi's waist as she lunged forward, almost sliding over the desk in front of him in her haste to smack—literally—some sense into the glowing idiot on the mound.

"You absolute dumbfuck!" Emi howled, and Kataoka stood and moved over to Chris to grab her shoulders. Chris had abandoned his pen, favouring to hold Emiri back in the present moment. "You can't play baseball if you don't know baseball!"

"Hah?! What're you talking about, Emi?" Eijun shook his gloved hand, pointing his pitching hand at her in fury. "Stop insulting the awesome pick-off I learned from Chris- _senpai!"_

"That was a fucking _balk_! Do you even know what that shit even is?"

("What kind of demon is that?" A Kiryuu player hissed, flinching back further into the dugout.)

Yuuki, being the closest to the dugout and therefore in Eijun's sight, nodded and pointed at the seething Emiri. "Nakano's right. That's a balk."

"What?! Not a pick-off?"

"Anyone would call that a balk," Yuuki reiterated patiently.

In the dugout, Emi was furiously pestering Kataoka.

"Shin- _nii_ , _see_? He's an idiot—an idiot. I told you this would end up bad—but do you ever listen to me? Noooooo... because you're Kataoka Tesshin and you're too fucking proud—"

Kataoka shoved her back down into Chris' lap—no matter how much seeing the two so cuddly annoyed him. Chris managed to catch her flailing arms and lock them against her chest with his own. While Emi had fury on her side, Chris, even with his bad shoulder, was more than a match for her flailing with his toned appendages and years of strengthening. Kataoka gave her a reproachful glare that screamed "behave" before he sank bank down onto the bench.

"Shouldn't you have more faith in him?" Chris grunted, holding Emi a little tighter.

"That'll just encourage him to fuck up more..." Emiri wilted. "He's such a slow learner and even more hard-headed, I'm sorry."

Chris loosened his hold into a semblance of a hug. "It's alright, I know."

(Emiri sunk back into the warmth Chris offered—it'd been a while since someone had held her like this.)

— **[ + ] —**

Back on the diamond, Eijun was blushing furiously, reddening even further once Miyuki's distinctive laughter filtered through the air. Not only was he making his beloved Chris- _senpai_ lose face, he was making his Emi- _nee furious_.

He could hear her voice in his head...

" _I hate sloppy things... So I hate sloppy players—they shouldn't even be allowed to play... How the fuck are you going to rep your team and purposely do so_ shit _?! You have expectations so meet them! Or go beyond them! Don't shoot for any less! Like_ fuck _!"_

And that had been one of her less-passionate rants...

Eijun was totally going to get his ass chewed up and spat out after this.

" _They just need to breathe..."_

Eijun opened his eyes, Emi's voice continuing to echo in his ears.

" _People get sloppy when they're stressed and that shouldn't be it. So what if you have a little time? Time fucks everybody over. But a breath takes three to five seconds and that's enough time to think at least a little. Everyone can have a moment of genius but like, do people take a moment? Nope. Which is_ stupid _."_

Breathe.

His shoulders seized up and sank back down as he inhaled deeply and exhaled forcefully. Eijun's heart was thrumming loudly, almost too loud but he needed to hear it.

Miyuki's glove was right in front of him.

He pitched—

 _Clang_!

In the dugout, Emi grit her teeth, hand fisting aggressively and nails almost drawing blood. "After today I'm going to beat the meaning of control into his head."

"It's the balk that hurt," Chris tried to barter some leeway for his protégé. But Emi wasn't looking at him, instead furiously glaring at the Kiryuu player who was running up to first base.

The retired catcher felt bad for the other player, seeing him flinch even as he discarded the protective gear around his arm. No doubt, he could feel Emi's arrow-like, venomous glare digging into him from that far.

(Emi looked ready to kill something—whether it was Eijun or the opposing team, Chris didn't know.)

"He swings way too confidently for someone who got the golden sombrero in a game against Shūtori!"

The Kiryuu player on first base flinched and looked over his shoulder glumly, embarrassment clear on his face as he heard her words.

"Emiri. He can hear you."

"That's the point, Shin- _nii,"_ Emi stated brazenly. "You didn't say I couldn't heckle them..."

"Emiri. _Sit_ down."

"Fine... But he still struck out four times against the very pitcher he talked so much shit about!" Emi raised her voice again. She settled down again when Kataoka leveled her with a flat glare over his glasses.

Emiri pouted, crossing her arms and resembling a toddler as she did so. "Talk shit and watch what happens..."

"Emi, I don't think trash talking the other team is going to help Sawamura do any better."

Emi huffed but smiled.

"What?"

"You're calling me Emi now, huh? What happened to Nakano?"

"...Just focus on the game."

(Chris definitely was not blushing. It was a trick of the light.)

— **[ + ] —**

Eijun snickered on the mound. He didn't know what a horn was in baseball but if Emi- _nee_ was making fun of this guy for it, it had to be bad. Like, worse than him—not that _he_ was Emi's standard for "fucked up."

(Okay, maybe that was a lie.)

It gave him more confidence, even if it was at the expense of another person.

(So maybe he felt a little sorry for the guy for being embarrassed by his Emi- _nee_ like that, but once you got used to it, it didn't really mean all that much.)

' _Thank you, Emi-nee, Chris-senpai...'_

Miyuki's mitt. The third base runner. The ball.

" _Make sure to look at the third base runner."_

' _Take this!'_ Eijun roared in his mind with gusto, ' _Emi-_ nee's _Black Aura: Version Eijun_!'

"Geh!" The Kiryuu player flinched back, toeing the third base as Eijun imitated his cousin's furious glare as best he could.

(God, he hoped Emi- _nee_ would be proud of him.)

" _Make it look like a pick-off..."_ Chris' soothing voice was the centre of his thoughts. _"And then—"_

His right foot slipped out and down into the lunge, his right arm perpendicular to the ground as he kept his left hand parallel until his arm whipped out. Eijun could feel the knot of energy in his stomach—or was it abdomen?—and he held it in tight, tight, _tight_.

Miyuki's glove.

Miyuki's _glove_.

 _Miyuki's glove_!

 _Clang_!

"—Did that just hit him?" Emiri awkwardly stood between the desk and Chris. The girl swayed, eyes narrowing as she tried to properly glimpse and breakdown the situation.

Was she going to have to cut this batter after?

Chris pulled her back down, hazel eyes wide. "It's in his glove—"

"Sawamura! Ball to second!" Miyuki cried out, flipping the catcher's mask off. "Double play!"

Sawamura, stunned out of his sense, was suddenly grounded by the catcher's voice body moving as his mind reached clarity. Hand. Ball. Throw—Kuramochi- _senpai_. The shortstop let out a shrill laugh, tapping the base with his foot before jumping and _nooming_ the ball into Yuuki's waiting glove.

"Oh! A double play!"

"That pitcher isn't bad!"

"Third base runner couldn't even move!"

Emiri squeezed out a breath, leaning backwards into Chris and both hands over her heart. She forced a chuckle out of her parched lips, throat dry. Like the dark-haired girl had always said, being around Eijun gave her _STRESS_.

"He's going to be okay, right…? Chris- _senpai_?"

Chris squeezed her arms comfortingly before he took up his pen again, scratching the play into the playbook.

"You can trust Miyuki."

"Yeah, about that? How about _no_."

— **[ + ] —**

"Well, I must say, that was an interesting match," Coach Matsumoto began, holding out his hand for Kataoka to shake. The younger coach quickly grasped his senior's hand, firmly and confidently. "That first-year starter you had with the violent fastball had a lot going on for him—especially when his form began to shape up. But that pitcher you brought out in the fifth… That moving fastball is pretty powerful in it's own way but when he learns control, I'm sure you'll have yet another monster on your hands. I can understand why you want to keep a pitcher like him as a secret weapon."

Kataoka kept his face impassive, Rei doing the same but Ota was outwardly gaping at Matsumoto's praise of the loudmouth pitcher. Emi, trailing after Kataoka, could only smirk in an infuriating way.

(Had her friends been there, they'd say her lover's horrible persona was beginning to laugh at her.)

"But more than… I was surprised to see—or rather, _hear_ , Nakano Emiri in Seidō's dugout."

"Geh," Emiri gagged, peering out from behind Kataoka.

(She hated, hated, _hated_ Suga right now.)

"You know her?" Kataoka actually wore a look of surprise, as the older coach looked at him with a bemused expression.

"I've heard many things about her and her... eccentrics."

"Suga just has a fucking big mouth is what that shit is," Emi burst out, interrupting the almost solemn atmosphere between the two coaches. Kataoka's hand came down on her head, holding her in place as he sent her yet another disapproving look that she yet again ignored.

(The girl was going to send him into an early grave.)

"Hana- _chan_ has never been one to keep quiet on things that interest her," Matsumoto smiled at the disgruntled girl.

"Except when you ask her if she's dating Taka then the bitch knows when to shut up," Emi bit back.

Matsumoto laughed at the girl's harsh words over his favourite pitcher. "Isn't that a little harsh? Hana- _chan_ forced me to bring a present for you too..."

"Unless it's food, I don't want it—"

One of the Osaka Kiryuu players waved a white tub in front of the prickly girl's face. Emi recognized him—he was one of the basemen, a Shibatani Kyohei, the captain of the team.

"...Are those cookies?"

He let out a laugh, "Yeah, Hana- _chan_ says you love them."

Emiri looked between Coach Matsumoto and Shibatani, eyes narrowed. "Are you people bribing me for information?"

Coach Matsumoto actually let out a full-bellied laugh. "If you were able to glean anything from that one game alone, I'd hire you on the spot."

Kataoka looked ready to throw the girl over her shoulder because Emi was practically fuming at the—as she perceived it—flippant tone the other coach was using with her.

It was a fickle thing—pride. It could become in excess and dwindle into nothing. It was a powerful motivator but just as powerful a poison. There were many a cruel thing that pride could lead someone into doing—all for the sake of one's "pride." Was revenge caused by someone who felt wronged by an injustice or was someone acting because their pride was wounded? Pride could mean confidence, as well as it could mean cockiness or lack of self-esteem.

Pride is one of those things you have to seriously reflect on and question how big of an aspect it is in your life.

It shouldn't be taught as a motivator but if there was one thing that she was taught in middle school?

 _Don't let anyone step on your pride_.

Or, as she and everyone associated with the basketball team liked to put it.

 _Talk shit and get fucking hit_.

(She wasn't going to knock the coach of Kiryuu the fuck out, no, even if she really wanted to—so she'd step on his motherfucking high horse instead.)

"Tachi has weak mental fortitude as too reliant on you, Coach Matsumoto—in fact, most of the team is reliant on you so when you lose your temper with another team the whole team goes to shit. Your team can't think for itself, albeit they make up for it their physicality but ultimately—humph! _Humph_!"

Emi hissed and clawed at Kataoka's hand currently covering her mouth, the older man staring off into the sky as if asking the deities above why he was cursed with handling the girl who was more or less throwing a tantrum, glaring daggers at her brother-figure for his betrayal.

' _You piece of shit... How fucking dare you?!'_

On the other hand, Matsumoto was equally as peeved as the teenage girl, the veins at his temple ready to pop as his team captain attempted to pacify him in vain.

' _This little brat...'_ The coach inwardly seethed, features smudging into an even uglier scowl than the one he wore while watching Eijun pitch.

"Emiri, go interact with people your own age." Kataoka instructed, shoving her gently in the direction of the other teens.

It wouldn't be good for his nor Coach Matsumoto's blood pressure if the girl continued to hang around him. Emiri glared at him and he knew she was going to purposely act like a total brat around him until she'd been satisfied by his own annoyance.

(She really was trying to send him into an early grave.)

"Got in trouble with the Coach?" Kuramochi grinned his razor sharp grin, his signature laugh cutting through the air when Emi refused to answer him.

Emiri rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile at the boy's cheery attitude and adorable laugh. Demonic, yes, but very adorable too. She couldn't help but want to squish some of the Seidō's boys—not violently like she wanted to do half the time to Eijun, but like, squish their cheeks. Like Kawakami, Haruichi, Chris…

She probably should add Kuramochi but the boy sometimes flushed when he saw her and looked away as quickly as he could.

The weirdo.

Speaking of boys that looked away, Emi caught sight of the boy she'd heckled when Eijun took the mound. The high of the game and her ire had left her at this point, and she kind of felt bad for embarrassing him like that—not to mention bringing up ancient history. It was also pretty rude of her to bring up such a humiliating defeat too—especially because Suga had told her that he _had_ been talking serious shit about her. Harris Hana Kasuga was really nice, a bit on the air headed and ditzy side, but really petty when it came to baseball.

Even pettier than her and Emiko combined.

The dark-haired boy looked away from the golden-eyed girl as soon as their eyes made fleeting contact. Despite being taller and more muscled than she was, he was hunching in on himself as he turned away—like he wanted to shrink back from her gaze, or even go miniscule.

Now Emi actually felt bad.

She liked winning as much as any person from Teiko, but she wasn't in the habit of humiliating people.

(Unlike some very rowdy juniors of hers.)

Walking over to the boy, Emiri placed her hand on his upper arm. She watched, lips twitching amusedly, as he blinked in confusion before he craned his head over his shoulder to meet her blazing eyes. He flinched, backing away from her touch and Emi almost laughed—she choked it back though. Holding a hand up in peace, the dark-haired girl offered the teen in front of her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry about earlier…" Emiri started, nose crinkling as she tried to word her apology as politely as she could. "The complications of the balk and the whole bragging that Eijun did really pissed me off. And I shouldn't have taken it out on you but I did. Real bitchy of me."

"No, no…" he waved off her apology hurriedly, both his hands waving frantically in front of his chest. "I mean—it _was_ embarrassing but I—I really did talk a lot of shit that game and Hana- _chan_ showed me up for all I was worth back then…"

Emi laughed lightly. "She's a vindictive bitch about baseball, yeah."'

"Tell me about! And then when she's on your case, Taka gets on your case because when Hana- _chan_ is mad, they're both mad."

Ease had seeped back into the boy's shoulders, loosening up as he stood slightly slouched and more than comfortable.

Good.

"But that's because the two of them are _crazy_ about each other."

"Yeah, _crazy_."

 _Oh_. Emi raised a delicate brow, her lips quirking into a knowing smirk. "Are they…"

"Well, not that _I_ know…" Murata wiggled his brows, "But does anyone really know?"

"Taka seems the private type," Emi conceded, agreeing.

Murata laughed. "Speaking of… Is that pitcher of yours, you know…?"

What?

Emi's brows crinkled, what was he—

Oh.

 _Oh._

Ewwwww…

"No, _no_ … _No._ " Emi shook her head, her lips twisting. Just thinking about even remotely liking Eijun in _that_ way left a rotten taste in her mouth. _Yuck_. "God, _no_. Like… _No._ Just _no._ I mean I love him, but it's the type of love that grows on you like a fungus."

Murata cracked a grin. "So he's a fun guy?"

"Get the fuck out."

Murata cackled.

"Like I love Eijun," Emi trailed off, second guessing her feelings. "But it's sort of out of necessity at times because, as you've seen, he can fuck up gigantically and I'm Nakano Emiri. I don't love— _that_."

Emiri awkwardly brought her hands together and apart in a gesture to try and convey _that_. To love Eijun—as a choice—was… daunting. You had to put up with his capricious moods, his loud volumes and over the top gestures of his sincerity. But he was _sincere_ and when he cared, you could tell he cared a lot. Perhaps it was because she was his cousin she often spoke of him as a chore—and really, after sixteen years of having him around, fatigue starts to set in. Because he was lovable yet eccentric. And she guessed Eijun had some looks to him—the Sawamura-Nakano cousins were fairly good-looking, if not a tad plain. So she supposed his personality made up for their not so jaw-dropping appearances.

"So he isn't the asshole Hana- _chan_ was talking about?"

Emiri blinked, eyes wide in genuine surprise before understanding settled it. "Suga and her big mouth?"

"Well, partly." Murata stammered out, cheeks heating up. "I… was sort of into basketball in middle school so… _ano_ …"

The dark-haired girl watched him wring his hands, rolls his wrist and then repeat. He was actually nervous talking to her if his fleeting glances were anything to go by. He would clear his throat, as if to ask a question, but then pause and quiet down, courage evaporating. And it honestly baffled her.

Why?

She was literally a manager in middle school. Don't get her wrong, Emiri would've loved to have recognition for all the crap she put with as a manager—why was she supposed to make sure her _senpai_ were on top of their grades? Wasn't that the coaches' job? Emi could make a metre-long list about all the shit she shouldn't have had to deal with as just a manager but still.

Not to mention she had Sawamura Suzume on the very basketball team she managed.

As in, her older, very much female, cousin. Who was like a smarter Eijun but on steroids. It was impossible to deal with her on a bad day and downright aggravating to reel her in on a good day.

Murata flinched back at the aura beginning to roll of Emi, cold sweat beading at his nape.

(The _last_ thing he wanted to do was piss her off.)

"So were you going to ask me about my talented, bold cousin?" The sharp stabs of sarcasm she'd laced in her rhetoric question were downright deadly.

"Actually..." The boy paused, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his head. "Can I... take a picture with you?"

 _What_.

A smile danced across Emi's face fleetingly. Her nose crinkled a little as the boy blushed prettily at her smile—adorable. "That's really cute. And weird. But cute. I like you."

("Hah?! What'd she just say?!" Eijun growled, stomping over and easily breaking out of Haruichi's grip on his uniform.)

("Kuramochi!" Miyuki called in a mockingly adoring voice, "It's your turn to wrangle Sawamura.")

"I… Thanks? I guess," he laughed a bit. "My name's Murata Yusuke by the way."

"Like the _mangaka_?"

"By pure coincidence," Murata laughed.

"Nakano Emiri," Emi introduced needlessly, a knowing smile on her face, "though you already knew that."

Murata had the gall to blush prettily like a school girl as Emiri smiled at him. Kuramochi managed to catch Eijun around his collar as his _kohai_ grit his teeth and tried to stomp his way over to his cousin. Emi just kept the same placid smile on her face, though the niceties were beginning to make her weary.

(You could only put up with so much bullshit in a day.)

"I'd ask you sign the edition of Basketball Monthly except I don't have it on me."

"That's fine," Emi waved off his excuse, instead smooshing into his side and looping his arm over her shoulder. "Who'd bring a magazine a year and a half old on a training trip?"

Murata _continued_ to blush and rub sheepishly at the back of his head, continuing to have all of Emi's attention. The golden-eyed girl wedged her elbow into his ribs, prompting the blushing, fumbling boy to take his damned phone out.

("Why do I feel jealous...")

"Say ' _ni_.'"

" _Ni_ ," Emi's face split into a smile so broad it was 100% plastic.

(Fake.)

A light flashed, and just as quickly as the light dispersed, Emiri's smile vanished as she pulled away from Murata. The girl's lips puckered as she straightened her clothes needlessly, brushing away imaginary dust from her pristine clothes.

(" _Itai_ … That's cruel." Murata's teammate whispered to another, who only shook his head sympathetically.)

Murata looked like he wanted to say something further but Coach Matsumoto had called Kiryuu's attention. With a collective answer, the Kiryuu players began boarding the bus. That didn't stop Murata from sending Emiri a nervous smile as a goodbye. The girl gave him a tight smile in return, curling her fingers in a goodbye wave.

She dropped the smile once the bus started moving, though. Emi cussed under her breath, massaging her cheeks with her fingers as she turned around and waded into the assorted crowd that was the Seidō baseball team. "Ah, _fuck_ … My cheeks hurt."

"Everyone inside!" Kataoka's voice boomed. "We're going to discuss the game today!"

There were quiet groans of protest—their bodies still felt like lead—and then there was Emi.

"Are you fucking with me? Like _actually_ fucking with me? Can I just go home?"

"Emiri, you too."

"But I don't even know baseball!"

If the short girl could pick out what that look her Shin- _nii_ just sent her meant, it was that he could see through her bullshit. But it wasn't actually bullshit—maybe, sort of. Emi knew the basic aspects of baseball because she'd did a superficial run through but if he was expecting her to give an in depth analysis of all the plays then she was as dumb as soup.

"He's fucking with me right?"

All she got were shots of sympathy from the boys around her. Emi let out a wail—or maybe it was a groan—and followed like a sloth.

(This was going to be a fucking funhouse.)

"Yo, Nakano," Miyuki good-naturedly looped an arm over the girl's shoulders. She was roughly thirty centimetres shorter than him so it wasn't all that hard. The only thing that really dissuaded him was the pinched expression she sent him when she caught sight of his face.

"What, Miyuki?" Emi asked shortly, bringing up a hand to pinch at the catcher's. He tsk'd at her but made no move to remove the annoyingly long appendage of his hanging off of her.

"What was that about?"

"The picture? I was sort of famous in middle school..." Emi trailed off, struggling for the words to describe her exact situation. "I wasn't famous _famous_ , but I guess I was pretty well known if you followed a specific set of news. Partially from who I was affiliated with school-wise and... and partially because of my boyfriend. If I'm being honest, more so my boyfriend then being the manager of my school's girls' basketball team."

Miyuki took her hesitance at the end as embarrassment—rather than her bitterness towards the topic.

(Which, would suck majorly once they found out why—especially for Kuramochi.)

"Oh? Your boyfriend? In _middle school_?"

Emiri rolled her eyes at his needling, elbowing him in the ribs. Miyuki laughed his nasally laugh, side-eyeing her as they kept walking together. "My boyfriend... He was known for many things. Mainly being the most annoying player you'd ever meet."

Miyuki sniggered.

Now, _that_ sounded like Sawamura.

"His personality was unbearable to most and when people said his name it was generally followed by sighs of exasperation and annoyance."

' _...How annoying was Sawamura in middle school,'_ Miyuki wondered.

"If he's so annoying, why are you still with the moron?" Kuramochi snapped from behind the two.

Emi's face was unimpressed when she looked over at the shortstop. Although it was a little hypocritical for her to be annoyed with him for eavesdropping because that was one of the main methods she used in reconnaissance.

"You don't even know him," Emi said sourly, sniffing the air in annoyance, a little put off and a little confused.

It was Kuramochi's turn to be confused. "Aren't you Sawamura's girlfriend?"

 _HOLD THE FUCK UP._

Emiri turned on her heel sharply, the sudden whip of her hair and distressed face stopping the entire entourage from the march into the building. The second-year seemed to grasping at straws as she tried to gather herself.

Unfortunately, all her mind was saying was _what_.

"Girlfriend?" Emi echoed hollowly. "Why the fuck would I be his girlfriend?"

(Eijun was at the side, dry heaving in disgust on his hands and kness.)

Her face was utterly disgusted as she stared accusingly at the Seidō first string.

"...You're not dating?" Kuramochi tentatively asked, backing away from the girl as visibly began to shake.

"Fuck _no_ ," Emi snapped, looking up at the sky and began counting in her head. She wasn't allowed to kill them—not even Shin- _nii_ could protect her from those kinds of consequences. "He's my _cousin_."

"What?!"

"Okay, okay... How about a quick lesson on the Sawamura family tree?" Emi announced unsurely, wringing her hands and counting her breaths. "Alright, you can do this... Sawamura Eitoku had four children—Eiko, Eita, Eiji, and Eikichi. Eita has son named Daich, Eiji has a daughter named Suzume, Eiko has a daughter named Emiri— _me_ —and Eikichi, the youngest, has a son named Eijun— _him_."

Emiri finished with a huff, gesturing wildly. "I would never, ever, not in any universe, date Sawamura Eijun because he is my baby cousin. Dating him would be incestuous, annoying as fucking shit—and I mean, who would date him?"

Eijun, who had been standing off to the side and nodding at her every word stopped. "Oi! What's that supposed to mean?!"

Emiri gave him a once over, her lip curling out in a disgusted frown. "You're _ugly._ "

Eijun squawked, flapping his arms as he tried to articulate an argument but Emi dismissed him with a simple look and a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Come on... Just... _Ew_. Admittedly I haven't made the best impression—yeah, I am a psycho bitch—but guys, come _on_ , I have better taste than... that."

She finished, tossing a completely _done_ look over at her cousin, waving her hand lamely.

(Yeah, Eijun was very… _that_.)

"Now that that shit has been cleared up... The bitch who started that rumour you best step the fuck up."

Miyuki, who had managed to sneak away from Emi's side and behind Kuramochi, kindly shoved Kuramochi forward.

Kuramochi saw _death_.

" _Why the fuck do you think I'd date this dumbfuck piece of shit—like_ fuck!" Emi screeched and the shortstop flinched back, falling backward as Emi continued to loom over him. "That's not a thought that can even be produced by demon possession which means you're seriously fucked in the head. Like seriously. That shit cannot be fixed by the doctors so I suggest getting an exorcism because, _dude_ , what the _fuck_?!"

Kuramochi was _praying_ —and looking at Ryo- _san_ for help.

(Fighting fire with fire applied to demons too, right?)

"Emiri—Emiri! That enough," Kataoka rumbled, catching the girl around her middle and hefting her up. The golden-eyed girl kicked at him, even as he threw her over his shoulder, and clawed at his back furiously.

(He'd rather have Kuramochi alive, thank you very much.)

"But Shin- _nii_ he needs to die! Shin- _nii,_ put me down! Shin- _nii!"_

Kuramochi collapsed backward in relief.

...Until he saw who exactly was looming over him and casting a shadow.

The shortstop blinked one eye open in annoyance—because fuck whoever was interrupting his euphoria—and saw Miyuki's signature grin. The catcher's signature, _shitty_ grin.

"His cousin..."

"Don't you fucking start, _tanuki_ bastard!"

("Are we still going to have that meeting…?")

— **[ + ] —**

Kataoka only showed up again during dinner.

There wasn't anything wrong with the coach, as far as the boys could see. His gait was still proud, confidence thrumming with each heavy footfall of his, and he didn't have any bruises or other injuries that they could see. His hair was still neatly brushed back, and his ever-present glasses were perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose.

(It looked like the only one who was impervious to Emi being, well, Emi was the coach.)

And then Kataoka stopped, right in front of them and called everyone's attention to him.

He waited at the front, hands on his hips as her observed them—unnerving them as he did.

And then in his booming voice, he instructed all of them to:

"From now on, when dealing with Emiri, I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour and do not—do _not_ —bait her into any arguments. I won't be able to stop her next time."

And wasn't that fucking terrifying?

Their own coach—someone renowned for being so stubborn, bull-headed, and temperamental the staff tended to tiptoe around him—couldn't handle Emi.

They all collectively shivered, and Kuramochi made a note to visit a shrine the next time he could.

— **[ + ] —**

Everyone was avoiding her.

It wasn't like Emiri particularly minded being left alone—she was often alone for most of her childhood. Her toddler years were spent mainly in the company of her mother and her employees at the café Eiko owned. Her childhood was mainly spent in either the infirmary or hospital due to injuries or aggravating her existing health concerns. But with middle school and being in a relationship for a fairly long time—considering their age—she wasn't exactly used to being so alone anymore.

Still, did she mind?

No.

Because otherwise she'd be ripping throats at this point.

"Mother _fucker_!" She cursed yet again, "I don't even want to be here this is so fucking _rude_!"

But no...

Shin- _nii_ went on and on about how she made a commitment to be a part of their summer training camp and helping out the baseball team. And then he droned on and on about how her fickleness would prevent her from having any sort of commitment in the future—his example being you could get a job and there would be some days that you would hate what you were doing.

Well, tough titties.

She wasn't doing this because she actually wanted to be a manager again—fuck _no_ —being a manager was so tedious and hard work, and you barely got any appreciation because athletes were what? _Needy_!

But then Shin- _nii_ had called her parents and talked about how she almost clawed Kura-whatever's throat out—but he didn't give the reason why so her mom had come up to Seidō and practically dragged her home by her hair.

Then she had to sit through a lecture about how if she was going to do those type of things, she should have an alibi and not do it out in the open.

(Emiri had rolled her eyes all throughout her mother's lecture—she grew up with Shōichi as her best friend and later boyfriend; she already knew what to do with a body, thank you very much.)

And despite her current attitude towards the Seidō baseball team—specifically the first string and especially her cousin and his roommate—Shin- _nii_ still insisted that Emi be there for the round robin!

 _What the fuck_.

Emi was short, she understood that very well with her Amazonian friends, and she looked docile and fragile, which was reinforced with her medical history, but if there was one thing she grew in middle school, other than her assets, it was a spine.

So, she really, really, _really_ did not appreciate being stepped on like this.

' _Shin-_ nii _is on my fucking shit list!'_ Emi thought with violent gusto, muttering several choice words as she continued to wander around the baseball grounds. "'Make sure everything is in working order, Emiri' and yada, yada, yada... Like he didn't check the equipment and grounds out himself at the asscrack of dawn. _Ugh_."

This was utter _bullshit_ and she would complain about this day until Shin- _nii's_ ears bled with her nagging.

Seriously, _fuck_ him.

And true to Emi's predictions, the equipment was perfectly in order and so was the field they were going to use for today's round robin.

The coach just didn't want her interacting with the players—else she kill them—but wanted her insight didn't she?

Shin- _nii never_ expected her to grow up and turn out like this.

Well, it's what he got for not talking to her for more than a decade.

(Yes, she still very much salty over that and now even more peeved with how she perceived him to be treating her.)

"I hate this..." Emi grumbled yet again, looking up and then squinting at the blazing sun.

She wondered how Furuya did it. She was used to living in the Kanto region and spent much of her childhood in the Chubu region, both being fairly hot in the summer. Furuya was fresh from Hokkaido, Japan's northernmost prefecture and well known for its snow and cold climate. It surprised her that he hadn't gotten sick yet from the sudden change in climate. The dark-haired girl had thought he'd pass out to heatstroke half way through the summer training but Furuya apparently was defying her predictions.

Which was new and weird. Very weird.

It was either Furuya was more resilient that she thought or he was putting up a façade and taking rests away from Kataoka's stern eye.

It was probably the latter rather than former, but the coaching staff probably already knew of his predicament.

Well... They should... right?

There was her Shin- _nii,_ the astute Takashima Rei, and the frantic but good-natured Ota, and the veteran catchers—Chris, Miyuki and Miyauchi.

There was no way they wouldn't have factored Furuya's cold-weather-inclined constitution into his training menus, right?

Furuya probably wasn't the first member to come all the way from Hokkaido...

So, Emi was probably worrying about nothing but she couldn't help but sweat this minute details—after all, a single point could lead to a win or loss.

(Still, she couldn't shake this bad feeling creeping up on her shoulders—maybe she and Shōichi were due for another argument?)

— **[ + ] —**

Emiri met Kataoka at the mess hall, the latter having already dismissed his boys to the field, and gave the girl a once over. He knew she was more than annoyed with him for yesterday and today, but he was counting on her maturity to at least let him live a little before she decided to annoy him to the grave.

"Emiri, Inashiro and Shuuhoku should be here soon."

Emi raised a brow and rolled her hand in a 'go on' motion. He huffed a little at the obstinate front she was putting up for him. The utter _brat_. "You and I will be collecting them from their respective buses."

"What?!" He had to be fucking with her, right? "Why…? That's Takashima- _san's_ job..."

Kataoka ignored her whine and simply walked forward. He could hear her huff in annoyance but the pitter patter of her footsteps soon followed his own. A sidelong glance to his right proved that she was walking beside him, slightly struggling to match his long strides, and pouting like the toddler he remembered fondly.

(The sweet image being corrupted by the bratty teenager walking next to him.)

"Coach Kunitomo still coaches Inasahiro."

"Really?" Emi drawled lazily, and inwardly winced at how much she sounded like Shōichi. "Isn't he a little too old to be coaching anymore? It's been like fifteen years since you graduated high school, Shin- _nii..._ You'd think the old guy would've keeled over by now..."

"Emiri."

"What? It's true... 'Sides, why're you telling me this? It's not likely he remembers me."

Kataoka placed a hand on her head, briefly chuckling at her annoyed huff and swat at his wrist. "You tend to leave an impression."

"No fucking shit—but it's your players' fault for assuming." Emi decided to poke him in the ribs until he let go of her head and stopped messing with her hair. She woke up early today to straighten it and like shit was she going to let him ruin her hard work. "And why the fuck would he remember a toddler that would glomp your leg and demand up?"

"Language," he admonished, ruffling her hair. "And for that very reason, wouldn't he remember you? You always shouted 'Kuni _-san'_ whenever you saw him and asked to be picked up unless I was holding you."

"Excuse me for having bad taste then _—itai!"_

Emi rubbed the back of her head and glared up at him as best she could. "Shin- _nii_ , that's mean! Don't pull my hair."

"It's unnatural."

"You're unnatural, you demon!" Emi hissed. "If Kuni- _san_ remembers me I'll send a resignation letter to the art club and join the baseball club full time."

"Quiet," he tugged at a stray lock for good measure and Emiri actually hit him for that. "They're here."

Inashiro's bus was fairly plain, like a standard charter bus. Except, of course, the kanji for the school painted in the deep red that she faintly remembered. Shuuhoku's bus, too, was the standard charter bus, except that it was a light grey colour with the school name emblazoned in black. The respective teams were getting out of the bus, single file—some yawning and stretching—and stood close to their respective buses in clusters, their coaches watching them with a reproachful eye.

Kataoka bowed in greeting, Emi following suit—pouting all the while—before he directed the teams to the field that they would be suing for today.

"I don't want to here..." Emi muttered, discreetly elbowing her Shin- _nii_ as they stood from their bows. He, as always, ignored her plight and went at his own pace—either leaving her behind or forcing her to match it.

Shuuhoku's coach bowed in return before leading his team away. Kunitomo on the other hand, simply nodded at a tall, burly player—the captain, Emiri assumed—who nodded back and began herding the team away.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the captain wrestling a blond under his control, dragging him away by the collar even as the smaller player began to throw a tantrum at the manhandling. The majority of her attention, however, was the steely gaze of the old man in front of her. Emiri remembered him vaguely, remembering sharp lines and an impassive, stony face. His hair was greyer now, the silvery strands more apparent and abundant with age. His face was still as rigid, unfeeling and sharp and she wondered how she had gotten away with calling him Kuni- _san._

Kataoka placed his hand on her head again, distracting her from the staring match that she was currently having with Inashiro's coach.

"Shin _-nii..._ would you fucking stop?!"

If he didn't stop touching her hair she was going to shave him bald—!

"Emi- _kun_."

 _What the fuck._

"What the fuck?" Emi whipped around to glare at Kunitomo through squinted eyes. "How the fuck do you remember me?"

Kuni- _san_ didn't grace her with an answer, simply walking after his team.

When Emiri turned to face Kataoka, full of dread, only to see him giving her a smug smirk.

The _bastard_!

Emi screeched, throwing his hand away from her person and stomped off after Kunitomo. "Shin- _nii_ , I _hate_ you!"

(Yeah, right. Kataoka was her favourite person in the world once upon a time.)

* * *

 **OMAKE — Chibi Nakano Emiri Chronicles: Part I — Emi-** _ **chan**_

"Emi- _chan_ ~" Yamamoto sang, lifting the two year-old into his arms. The toddler laughed brightly and cutely—perfectly fitting her adorable self.

"Moto!" Emiri chirped back happily, hugging his neck enthusiastically.

The first-string catcher didn't exactly know what to make of the little itsy-bitsy baby that showed up after practice one day and making grabby hands at Kataoka Tesshin of all people. While he and Kataoka were in the same grade and in the same class back in their first year, it was incredibly pressing not to be grated by their ace's attitude. Kataoka had an unnerving, scowling face when he _wasn_ ' _t_ mad and had a piss-inducing, demonic, 'I will eat your fucking heart _,_ ' face when he was _annoyed_. Annoyed, not mad. So when Nakano Eiko came around in the fall, a fifteen-month old Emiri in her arms they'd all been thrown for a loop.

Kataoka had a face only a mother could love but some- _fucking_ -how, he had won Emiri's love and the school's prettiest girl, Himuro Miyako's love.

Infant Emiri had been burbling in her mother's arms, chubby fingers in her mouth as her wide, golden eyes took sight of all the new and weird things around her. Yamamoto, like everyone else, had questioned her mother's sanity because who the fuck brought a baby to a high school baseball practice? Maybe a league game but a high school practice? Their captain, after catching sight of the pudgy baby, reminded everyone to watch their language near the audience's benches because _baby_.

Admittedly, Yamamoto had dropped a few—dozen—f-bombs himself near said area. And cringed every time he did so because: a) tiny, innocent pudge ball, b) possible angry mom and coach, and c) a weirdly glare-y Kataoka Tesshin who had _not_ sworn once after he'd caught sight of the baby.

And that had been a mindfuck and a half.

But that wasn't even the biggest mindfuck of the day.

Because as soon as they'd finished official practices, Kataoka had made a beeline for the audience benches and them being the nosy little fucks they were, had followed.

The little, tiny baby was downright adorable. She—if the little panda-themed dress was a tell—had dark, downy hair and big, bright gold eyes that sparkled with love and affection. Love and affection for Kataoka, because as soon as she saw him, she started screaming in a heartbreakingly cute voice: "Nii! Nii! Nii-Nii!"

The woman laughed, bouncing her as Kataoka jogged over. The infant had made grabby hands for Kataoka and the stone-faced ace easily complied, grasping her carefully under outstretched arms and pulling her to his chest. His dominant arm circled her bottom, his free hand coaxing her tiny arms around his thick neck until he finally settled a large hand on her downy baby hair.

Yamamoto's—and he was sure the entirety of the club's—jaw dropped.

"What the fuck, Kataoka?"

Oh, _shit_.

Was this _his_ voice that just cussed not two feet away from a baby?

If Kataoka's glare was worth anything to his future, he was going to get his ass whooped and served before dinner could even leave Yamamoto's mouth.

He was fucked. Royally.

"Watch your mouth, Yamamoto," Kataoka warned, rubbing the infant's head and she cooed.

(Yamamoto felt his heart break because that child Kataoka was holding? Yeah, fucking adorable.)

Ignoring his teammates, fifteen, turning sixteen, Kataoka Tesshin turned back to the mother of the tiny girl cooing "Nii-Nii" happily as she hugged him and wiggled in his arms. "Nakano- _san_ , what're you doing here?"

Eiko's nose crinkled a bit as she watched her daughter lavish the teenage boy with all the affection her tiny body could give him. Her daughter was just _so_ precious. Eiko gently ran a finger down her baby's soft hair, flouncing the little curls at her nape.

"Emiri has been talking about you and Miyako- _chan_ all day. Since Miyako- _chan_ is sick, I thought I'd bring her over here to watch you."

"Nii-Nii!" Emiri cut in, patting his cheek, and firmly grabbing his attention. Kataoka drew his left hand away from her back, catching his thumb in her tiny palm. Emiri giggled delightedly, and chanted yet again, "Nii-Nii…"

"See? That's all she's been saying for the whole afternoon," Eiko laughed, with a touch a of jealously in her heart.

The Nakano matriarch adored her daughter's tiny being but it hurt just a little knowing she adored a pair of teenagers so much she wanted to see them every day. Emiri's first love was supposed to her parents—not a teenage couple!

" _Ano_ … Excuse me, but what's going on here?"

Eiko blinked, turning her attention away from her toddler and to the group of boys that had pooled behind Kataoka. The leader of the motley group, wearing dark blue armour was glancing from Eiko, to Emiri and back to Kataoka with the same look of pure confusion.

"I'm sorry, I'm Nakano Eiko and this is my daughter, Emiri." Eiko introduced, placing one hand on her pre-occupied daughter's head. But their attention was elsewhere.

She figured it was the fact that Emiri was squishing Kataoka's face that threw the boys' off. And really, it was a sight to behold. When Miyako had first brought her boyfriend over in the final months of her middle school years, Eiko had been skeptical. Kataoka, so young, had such a stern, mean look to his face and she'd feared Emiri would be scared of him no matter how many times Miyako brought him over or how long he stayed. To her and Katsuki's great surprise, Emiri had practically fallen in love with the stone-faced boy on sight! If she saw Kataoka, it didn't matter if Emiri was in her parents' arms or not, she wanted to be held by Kataoka. And currently? Emiri was squishing Kataoka's cheeks with her pudgy fingers, a tiny furrow between her wispy brows as her Nii-Nii's face wouldn't keep the shapes she was making.

Laughing to herself, Eiko explained the meaning of her presence. "Ah, Emiri has been looking for Tesshin- _kun_ since she woke up from her nap so I took her here to see him."

"She wanted to see him?!"

Eiko laughed this time, loudly. Emiri was startled from her game, peering at her mother in wonder. Kataoka just grumbled some clean insults under his breath.

" _Oi_! What the Hell are you brats doing?! What's this gathering about?"

"Ah! Coach Sasaki!"

The thick coach, a man maybe a decade or so older than Eiko's thirty-three, cleared a swathe through the mess of sweaty teens. An annoyed sneer was on the man's face but it quickly turned to surprise when he caught sight of his newly-dubbed ace cradling a toddler.

"Tesshin? What's going on here?"

"I'm so sorry if I'm interrupting your schedule but my daughter, for some strange reason"—here Sasaki chuckled—"my daughter loves Tesshin- _kun_?"

"Love, eh?" Sasaki stooped forward, examining the toddler closely. Golden eyes blinked up at him, dazed. "My name's Sasaki Eijirō and I'm this one's coach."

Sasaki not so politely jabbed a thumb in the rowdy pitcher's direction.

Emiri stared. She looked up at Kataoka then she looked back at Sasaki. "Nii-Nii?"

"'Nii-Nii?'" Sasaki laughed, turning towards Eiko. "She thinks he's her brother?"

"Mhmm," Eiko hummed, eyes half-lidded. "She expects to see him everyday too."

Sasaki chuckled deeply, setting a hand over Emiri's head. The toddler pouted, whining a bit at the weight and shoving her face into Kataoka's chest. "What's your name, little baby? I already told you mine."

"Come on, Emiri, we've been practicing, right?" Eiko coaxed, but Emiri was resolutely keeping her face in the pitcher's chest. "E–Mi–Ri. Emiri. Come on, say it."

"Mi." Her tiny voice was muffled by the teen's muscle.

"Oh? Mi? Should I call you that?" Sasaki teased uselessly. He might have gotten a rise from a five year-old but he was currently dealing with a toddler who more than happy to be in Kataoka's embrace.

"Nii-Nii."

"Emiri, that's not your name."

"Nii-Nii."

" _Emiri_."

And ever since that fateful day, Emiri had faithfully shown up to practice every single day. Coach Sasaki had taken pity on the Nakano matriarch, eventually scooping the toddler in his arms and told her to take a break. The team had collectively felt uneasy but Sasaki had waved off their ill-placed worries and said that he's tell the other staff that Emiri was his granddaughter. Whether or not the coach actually had kids, it didn't really matter because if they knew one thing, it was that their coach was the stubbornest man alive. And if they knew another, it was that Sasaki had a way with words to make his way, _the_ way. Eiko had simply laughed at Sasaki's "relation," only warning him not to get too attached because her father—Emiri's grandfather—would have a fit. And her husband's father would be just as bad. Eiko had laughed even harder when Emiri started addressing Coach Sasaki as "Ojii-jii."

Eventually, the bouncing, ray of sunshine had warmed up to the whole team. Yamamoto had become "Moto", Matsudaira—the shortstop—had become "Matsu" and even their manager, Nakijin, had become "Naki." Of course, the only person to even have the – _nii_ from _onii_ - _san_ was Kataoka. And Kataoka didn't have it once, no, Kataoka was forever "Nii-Nii" in Emiri's eyes.

As weird as it was when Emiri first showed up, Yamamoto could confidently say that everyone in the Seidō baseball club had come to love Emiri. She was like their unofficial-official mascot—especially since Coach Sasaki had gotten her a mini jersey that was a replica of their uniform.

In fact, Yamamoto's favourite toddler was wearing it now!

"Oh, Emi- _chan_ , you're so cute!"

Emiri laughed, pushing at his face as he nuzzled her little cherubic cheeks. Yamamoto thanked whatever deities were out there that he'd gotten a pass on today's practice for his leg—having strained it in their last game—else Coach would be raining knuckles down on him.

"No! Moto! Emiri! My name!"

"No, no, Emi- _chan_ ," Yamamoto admonished dramatically, in that voice he knew the two-year old adored. "I have to call you Emi- _chan_ —do you know why?"

"No…"

"Well—!" Yamamoto swooped her down, making her giggle loudly. "The kanji for 'E' means 'paint' or 'draw.' Then 'Mi' means beautiful—"

"Pretty?" Emiri gasped, eyes going wide.

"Yes, your name means pretty," Yamamoto explained patiently, basking in Emiri's attention. He booped her nose with his fingertip and Emi stared at his finger, cross-eyed. Absolutely adorable. "And you're very pretty."

"Thank you, Moto!"

"You're welcome, Emi- _chan_. Now where was I?"

"Mi?"

"Did I finish that? I think I did… Okay, so "Ri" means 'village.' Do you know what a village is?"

Emiri stared at him before pouting and shaking her head. Yamamoto couldn't help but hug her close. "It's like a city but smaller. So less people."

"Two?"

"No, not two people. That's a couple or a pair. A village has maybe 200 to 1000 people."

"What? Too many…"

Yamamoto booped her nose again, disgruntling the tyke. She swatted at his hand as she pouted, her pudgy features emphasized. "Yeah? But did you know Kokubunji—where we live—has about 125 000 people."

"No!" Emiri gasped out, mouth a perfect 'O.' "Too many, Moto! Too many!"

"Yes, way," Yamamoto ruffled her hair. Emiri's hair had grown out a lot on the half a year he'd come to know her in. Her soft, curls were beginning to tickle her delicate shoulders. He set her down on his lap, grasping her hands as he bounced her on his knees.

"No…" Emi whined, nearly falling backward and off his knees if it weren't for his quick reflexes. The girl squawked, flailing until he'd pulled her into his arms again.

"And this is why I call you Emi- _chan_ ," Yamamoto sighed, patting her head comfortingly. "I don't think the meaning of 'Ri' does you any justice so I call you – _chan_!"

"Chan?"

"Do you know what – _chan_ means, Emi- _chan_?"

"No…"

"Well, – _chan_ is an honorific—and you'll learn more about those when you're older—and its used as an endearment. I know I'm using some _big_ words but basically? It means that I think you're cute?"

"Cute?" Emi gasped out.

"Yeah, so when I call you 'Emi _-chan_ ' it means that I find that you're cute, you beautiful drawing. So basically, I'm calling you a cute, beautiful drawing. That's much cuter than calling you a beautiful painting village or beautiful painting of a village—or whatever."

"Cute and pretty?" Emi asked, brows furrowing. "Draw? Bad at making draw…"

"Oh, it's okay, you'll get better when you're older."

"Humph!" Yamamoto didn't even know a toddler could even harrumph until now. "Okay…"

Yamamoto chuckled, rubbing a hand over her head and pinching her nose playfully. Emiri squawked, batting at his hands uselessly.

"Moto, no—!"

"You're being so loud, Emiri," Kataoka's deep rumbled cut into their fun. The ace was taking a swig from a water bottle and eyeing the two amusedly. "Are you having fun?"

"Nii-Nii!" Emiri squealed, jumping off Yamamoto's lap and glomping the pitcher.

"My heart…" Yamamoto whined, a hand over said organ. It squeezed painfully with jealousy. "Damn you, Tetsu."

Kataoka snorted, simply patting Emiri's head as she continued to hug the life out of his legs. "Has Yamamoto been teaching you anything? Or is he just being silly?"

"Ah, Nii-Nii!" Emi yanked at his uniform, "No Emiri, Emi- _chan_!"

Kataoka raised a brow. "Why?"

"Moto said Emiri cute!"

Kataoka tossed Yamamoto a dry look. "He lied."

"What?! Tetsu!"

"Lie?" Emiri's lip quivered. "Emiri no cute?"

"No, you're beautiful."

"My God, Tetsu, I didn't know you were a sweet talker. This how you landed Hi— _ack_!"

Yamamoto barely dodged the bottle Kataoka lobbed at his face—his beautiful face! "Tetsu, you as— _astronomically_ bad person!"

"Nii-Nii," Kataoka paused in his menacing of his catcher to blink his attention back onto Emiri. "So Emiri pretty?"

"Yes, you are," he reassured, patting her head as gently as he could.

"So Emi- _mi_?"

"What?"

"Moto say 'Mi' pretty… Emiri pretty so Emi- _mi_?"

"Emi- _chan_ , that's not how it works—"

"How work? Emi- _mi_? Emiri?"

"I… _ano_ …" Yamamoto scratched his head furiously as he tried to come up with an answer.

"Nii-Nii, con—foo—confuse…"

"Don't listen to Yamamoto anymore, the only time he makes good decisions is when he's on the field."

"You take that shit— _zel_! You take that _shitzel_ back, Tetsu!"

"Come," Kataoka murmured to the tyke, scooping her up as he meandered out of the dugout, completely ignoring Yamamoto. "Let's go find the coach."

"Ojii-jii!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I am ALIVE! I am so, so, so sorry for this incredibly late chapter. I've probably re-written this chapter maybe five times. It just didn't come together as I'd hoped. But I hope the omake at the end sort of made up for my absence. I've gotten back into writing enthusiastically so fingers crossed that I won't take as much time to put Chapter XI. As for my writing process, aside from having writer's block and my frustration with the rewrites, I honestly appreciated each and every comment made on this story. Thank you for the people who asked how I was—I'm better now, thanks—and thank you for all your enthusiasm. Reading all your comments really helped me finish writing this chapter. Even if I think it's a little less than my usual quality. Once again, I apologize for my lengthy absence.**


	11. Chapter XI — Shit? Meet Fan

**Disclaimer:**

 **I, in no way, shape or form own the manga/anime Diamond no Ace. This is, after all, _fanfiction_.**

* * *

 **Chapter XI — Shit? Meet Fan**

* * *

 _Shit happens._

.

.

.

Emiri slammed a hand over Eijun's mouth. Her cousin blanched, paling several shades and shaking as he bit down on his tongue. Emi offered the two Inashiro players a sickly-sweet smile. "Ignore this idiot—he's, well, an idiot."

' _And not to mention he's been acting like a fucking embarrassment...! I still can't believe this motherfucker had the balls to demand Shin-_ nii _—of all the fucking people in the world—to sub him in—what the fuck is he? Some kind of big shot? Hell, to the fucking no. Like, no. I can't believe I'm related to such a dumb bitch, what the fuck—'_

Kuramochi launched a kick at Eijun's back, a growl pulling at his lips and shattering the girl's train of thoughts—admittedly vulgar and violent thoughts. Miyuki sidled up to the girl, bumping their elbows. Emiri gave him a bland look, lips pursed and unamused.

 _Fix this_ , her golden eyes said, glinting with an unspoken promise of force. Miyuki gulped in response; honeyed irises framed by slightly crinkled brows at Emiri's immense displeasure.

...He really didn't want a repeat of the day before—y'know, when the Coach had to drag Emi away…

(He didn't know something so cute could be so violent—and look cute while doing it.)

"Wait—! What this idiot was saying was _true_?! He just gave away secrets to a rival team?!"

"Geh—!" Eijun doubled over again, Kuramochi and Emi's combined attack at his sides taking affect. "Emi- _nee..."_

"You're undeserving of any mercy—don't beg for it 'cause I sure as _fuck_ am not giving it to your dumbass," Emi hissed, yanking at his ear and straightening him up. Eijun wilted to the side, his face pinching in pain as Emiri continued to pull at the cartilage and nag—it didn't help that his Kuramochi- _senpai_ was kneeing him in his shin as his cousin nagged.

Miyuki stepped in front of the rowdy trio, a suave smile tilting his lips and screaming untrustworthy.

(Well, he looked sort-of trustworthy, in Emi's opinion, but that was due to his baby face—Shōichi's features were so much sharper.)

"Yeah," he said coolly, and all he was missing from the cool-boy image was thumbing his pockets. "It's all true. Furuya isn't doing well right now."

"Kazuya..." the blond drawled, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Coming from you, it sounds like a lie."

"He's got a point," Emi added in, pushing Eijun away from her and leaving him to Kuramochi. "You just have shitty face."

"Nakano that's mean—"

"Fuck off, _tanuki_ ," Emi hissed, elbowing him non-too gently in his side. Miyuki, ever the little shit, laughed at her expense and his new nickname.

"Anyways, Mei—you're pitching today, right?"

Mei, as Emiri now knew him, seemed to puff up in pride. "I sure am."

"Time to get some valuable data, then."

Emi shot the taller boy a look, with the catcher only glancing down at her with a look that promised an explanation—or insight really, the golden-eyed girl was smart enough to draw her own conclusions from the snippets of conversation.

"Are you all friends?!" Eijun questioned, Kuramochi dragging him along to the conversing duo by his collar. The first-year pitcher was seriously questioning the familiarity that the bastard of a catcher and the opposing team players were talking with.

To borrow one of Emi's favourite phrases— _what the fuck._

Emi watched the taller, broader boy behind Mei huff and grumble something inaudibly under his breath. The serious expression on his face endeared the girl to him slightly, as she was—almost eerily—reminded of a young Kataoka.

(She still had pictures of him and her and Miya- _nee,_ and the rare photo of the three of them with Shōichi and even rare, Tatsuya—maybe she should bring them one time?)

She couldn't see the look Miyuki was casting at the probably older boy—if his muscle definition and airs were anything to go by—but she could see minute traces of annoyance in the burly teen's stoic face; the slight grit of teeth, a faint pinch of the brows, the fiddling of his crossed arms...

Oh.

 _Oh._

Emi _knew_ that look. Very well, if she might add.

She'd seen that look several times when she'd encountered some of Shōichi's 'acquaintances' and even more so when Teikō's win streak lengthened each season.

(Huh... Maybe Miyuki and Shōichi were more alike than she thought...

But the idea of such _terrified_ her.)

"Let's go, Mei," the taller Inashiro player ordered in a huff. "I don't like _him_."

"Oh, yeah!" Mei explained joyously, like he had had some sort of epiphany. "Last summer, Kazuya's calls _completely_ shut you out—"

"Shut _up_!"

"Hey," Emi snagged Miyuki's jersey between two fingers and tugged. "So... I'm getting the vibes of a talented, blond Eijun?

Her cousin squawked in offense. "I'm talented!"

"Oh, Eijun…" Emi flicked her cousin's forehead. "Give me the rundown, Miyuki."

(Her cousin was... unique, yes, but that didn't mean shit until he had some consistency.)

"Narumiya Mei... He's someone that Sawamura, as a fellow southpaw, should watch."

Emi hummed, rolling her finger in a 'go on' motion.

"Last year," Kuramochi piped up, ducking his gaze away from Emi—because _shit,_ she was still glaring at him with the steely-eyed gaze of a viper. "Last year... As a relief pitcher, he struck out Azuma- _senpai—_ he couldn't even make _contact_..."

"Huh," Emiri blinked, shrugging away the sombre air. "A prodigy—I'm guessing since I don't know who the fuck Azuma even is—with the attitude of a five-year-old... Fuck my life. Like. Shit."

She didn't want a repeat of Teikō— _please not be a repeat of Teikō_.

(Fuck Teikō. Like, _fuck_ Teikō—but seriously? Fuck Teikō.)

"AH!"

The four of them jumped, stiffening.

Emiri could see the exasperation in the taller boy's face, even from practically the entire field away, as the blond pitcher made a beeline back to them. The blond, Mei—she needed to remember that—said something over his shoulder which only caused the older boy's scowl to deepen.

Mei, frankly, didn't seem to care since he continue to jog back to them with a childish gleam into his eyes—and wait.

Wait.

...He was coming towards her, wasn't he?

 _WHY._

"Miyuki— _Miyuki—_!" Emi scrambled backwards, snagging the tall boy's wrist in her hand and trying to maneuver the catcher in front of her.

( _God_ , her hands were tiny, Miyuki couldn't help but notice, a genuine smile crossing his face for the briefest of moments at Emi's panic.)

" _Mei_!"

The blond chased Emiri around Miyuki—the catcher doing jackshit to help Emi—and eventually caught her arm and spun her around to face him. The older boy strode over, scowling and bellowing a warning once again. The scowl he wore only made him older—and more tired.

(Slow ass _bitch_ —Emi had full faith that the older boy could've stopped Mei.)

"Hold _on,_ Masa- _san_!I just gotta ask—what's a cutie like you doing with Kazuya? You're too cute to be his girlfriend." Mei leaned forward, nearly bumping his nose against Emi's.

(Miyuki could feel his temporal vein _pop_. Was Mei really doing this here? _Now_? With _Nakano_?)

The golden-eyed girl's stare was flat. She raised a finely kept brow. "If you're implying that I like him then I can't really say anything since he does fit my taste"—here the blond laughed—"but I don't. Too much of a dork."

Mei sniggered, puffing up as he waggled his blond brows at the bespectacled catcher—who's eye was twitching with Emiri's comment. "See that, Kazuya? Even your manager thinks you're lame!"

Emi rolled her eyes, detaching herself from the blond's light grip and nudging Eijun to turn with her knee and placing a flat palm against his back, right between his shoulder blades. The younger pitcher resisted, gritting his teeth and yet pouting at her. Emi kicked him in the ankle.

Eijun knew better than to think she needed _him_ to protect her in a time like this.

(It wasn't like Mei was going to assault her, here, in broad daylight—she doubted anyone would even think to try, at least not after what Nijimura did when he caught her being catcalled...)

"Emi—"

" _Walk_." The girl replaced her hand with her elbow, digging it in until he squealed in pain and complied.

" _Oi_! You— _wait_!" Mei grabbed Emi's elbow, yanking her away from Eijun until she fell back against him. He grabbed her arms to support her, sensually sliding his callused palms up until they rested on her shoulders where he squeezed tenderly.

"Mei!" Harada barked, still metres away in the other direction. The third-year catcher had been peeved already with the dramatic pitcher not following his order but now even more so with his flirting and manhandling.

(For once—just _once_ —could Mei just… _not_.)

"Masa- _san_ , I'm just asking a question!" Mei snapped over his shoulder, grumbling about _senpai_ who were just jealous that they didn't have any game.

Emiri tilted her head back, angling it so that she could rest her head on his shoulder and be able to look up at him. The blond Inashiro pitcher was attractive, she would give him that, in a boyish sense. He was about as tall as Eijun, but their colouring couldn't be more different. Looking up at him, Emi thought his hair could pass as either light or bleach blond. But when she looked at him head on, his hair looked platinum—the difference in colouring was probably due to him being taller than her, and therefore casting a shadow over her. His blue eyes were probably the prettiest feature of his, on the bright side, like glowing sapphire chips—their glow only dimmed by the day's light.

Overall? _Cute_.

Very _cute_.

Not her usual taste but Emi had a fine eye for attractive features in just about anything.

(Her favourite feature of Shōichi's was a tie between his bony, slim and talented fingers and his steely irises, hidden from the world by his half-lidded stare.)

Emi stole a glance at her schoolmates. Miyuki was regarding them with a bit of a wide-eyed stare though his face remained impassive. He was quietly assessing the situation but despite the relaxed air about him, she saw a catapult pressed against its spring. Kuramochi, too, despite avoiding eye contact with her, had his hands on his hips with his foot tapping impatiently. The shortstop looked ready to pick a fight—physically and verbally.

And Eijun.

Eijun had the glare of a chihuahua. But when it came down to it, she knew he was as useless as wet paper. Her cousin was such a _crybaby_. Maybe an aggressive crybaby, but a crybaby nonetheless.

(Who do you think it was backing Eijun up whenever the idiot picked a fight? _Her_ fragile dumbass.)

But it was the thought that counts.

"So," Mei's lips brushed against her ear and she could tell the boy was looking at the Seidō boys challengingly. Still, Emiri couldn't help the shiver that zipped up her spine, leaving tingles all over her sensitive shoulders—the very part that the flirty pitcher was massaging dutifully. "I think you should transfer over to Inashiro, yeah? I—I mean _we_ —would love to have you."

Emi crossed her arms, brushing over his fingertips with the opposite hand—left languishing his right, and right trailing up his left with featherlight touches. Mei squeezed her shoulders tight, nose tracing an errant strand of hair in an attempt to be seductive.

 _Attempt—_ Emi would stress this because this boy was a _D O R K_.

(This was _not_ sexy—if she wasn't annoyed she'd probably be laughing because what was this?!)

"Did I ever mention I'm Seidō's _temporary_ manager?"

"No… You didn't."

"Mm," Emi hummed, playing along with his flirting and watching her schoolmates' hackles rise.

(If Kataoka found out the boys let this shit happen… Hell, he'd probably lock Emi up in her room.)

"Well, _temporary_ manager- _chan_ , would do you say about making yourself a _permanent_ fixture on _my_ awesome team?"

Emiri bit her lip mischievously. "Only if they're as cute as Miyuki."

 _What_.

"Geh!"

"Eh?"

"What?!"

" _What_?!"

Based on sound, that was Kuramochi, Miyuki, Mei, and Eijun respectively. The shortstop probably gagged in his confusion, Miyuki was probably trying to keep it cool but was flustered as fuck, Mei was aghast and Eijun was still shipping her and Shōichi—which, _weird_. But the Sawamura-Nakano cousins were weird, admittedly.

("Emichi or bust!" Eijun would insist, in part due to fear of Shōichi.)

Mei had frozen behind her, allowing Emi to pry his hands off her shoulders without much strain.

"Come on, boys," Emiri made a shooing motion, the Seidō boys following like zombies.

(Kuramochi was still staring at her like she'd grown wings and Miyuki had apparently short-circuited.)

Harada, tired with Mei's antics, snagged his collar in his large hand and was dragging the still-gaping pitcher away. It didn't fully click for the blond pitcher as to what had exactly transpired until Emi teasingly waved over her shoulder at the departing duo. With her cousin in a bastardization of a headlock.

" _What_?! Kazuya?! Masa- _san_ —let me go! I have to show that—that— _girl_! Who the cute one is! Masa _-san_!"

"Shut _it_ , Mei!" Harada barked, temple vein ready to pop.

"But Masa- _san_!"

"You're such a little man..." Harada grumbled, finally managing to get an arm around Mei and heft him up and off the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

(Considering Mei's attitude? He was pretty much a high-maintenance toddler.)

— **[ + ] —**

Emi grinned smugly, face contorting into pure smugness, watching the Inashiro duo move to their dugout, Mei screaming and complaining the entire time. Pretty boys were vain as fuck—especially talented, pretty boys. Sighing in fondness, Emiri let her cousin up, the younger of the Sawamura-Nakano cousins grumbling and rubbing at his neck.

(Sometimes, the golden-eyed girl had to wonder if he had forgotten about Suzume or even Daichi—because when their eldest cousin's temper started...)

"So…" Miyuki started, mouth dry. "You think I'm cute?"

Emi blinked, distracted and needled Eijun's pout on with pokes. "Physically? Yeah. Especially your ass."

Kuramochi sucked in a breath, slamming his hands onto his knees to prevent from keeling over laughing. Eijun stood agape and aghast, scandalized. " _Emi_!"

"What? He asked, I answered." Emiri replied blandly, ignoring the catcher's embarrassment and the roommates' shock. "Objectively speaking, all your asses are cute."

" _Emi_!"

"I'm not sorry...?" She held up her hands in surrender. "I mean, I guess it really _does_ sound like sexual harassment—I fucking know that I get pissed off when people comment on my ass… But for the record, Kuramochi?"

"Yeah?" The shortstop wheezed, hand on his chest to steady his dancing heart.

"I think you have the cutest ass."

It was Miyuki's turn to laugh.

"Red and green are a great combo," he sniggered, willing most of his blush away. Kuramochi's cherry red face, if possible, went redder. The shortstop dove at the catcher uselessly.

" _Emi_!" Eijun gasped scandalized, holding his hand to his chest like an offended mother.

(But most certainly not his Eiko- _oba-chan._ )

"They deserve to know!" Emi laughed at the chaos she created.

(It felt a little bit better to act like this—she missed her friends.)

— **[ + ] —**

"There you guys are! What the fuck took you so long?" Isashiki roared per usual, hands on hips as he tossed the four of them an annoyed glare.

"An annoying blond," Emi supplied, face carefully pleasant despite the bite in her voice.

Miyuki made a cutting motion across his neck with a wave of his hand behind her, his signature grin on his face. "Nakano was flirting."

" _Emi_ ," said girl corrected, turning her golden gaze to the starting catcher and smirked almost—dare he say it—seductively. "And you were the one who asked if I thought you were cute. It's not my problem if you can't handle a compliment."

" _I_ wasn't the one flirting with Mei," remarked Miyuki rather smugly, Kuramochi snickering.

(Eijun had waddled off to the other first years, wailing and bemoaning his cousin's behaviour to them.)

Emiri rolled her eyes. "Oh, _fuck off_ —"

"Mei—Narumiya Mei?!" Isashiki shoved his way between the two second-years, grabbing Emi's hair roughly and tugging until she whined. "What were you doing flirting with the enemy, _huh_ , Nakano?! Where's your Seidō pride?"

"Don't _fucking_ cut me off— _would you stop that shit_." Emi demanded, pulling at the third year's wrists. "My... _frigging_...hair…"

"Answer the question, damn it!"

"Hmmm..." Emiri managed to shove his hands away. "How about... _no_?"

"Why you—" Isashiki made a lunge for her hair just as Emi snapped her foot out to meet his balls.

Needless to say, Emiri was the victor in this matchup.

(" _Itai_ …" the audience collectively winced and moved to protect their jewels.)

" _Brat_!" Isashiki growled, holding his precious cargo and doubled over in pain. His expression was murder and Emi idly wondered if his face was going to explode with his astounding blood pressure.

"Knock it off, Jun," Yuuki intervened, grabbing his year mate by his upper arm and helping him up. Isashiki grumbled choice words but didn't shake the captain's firm grip off. "The game is starting."

And one of those teams was Inashiro Jitsugyo.

As in, the victors of the last year's summer tournament and their 'fated' rivals in a sense.

Emi raised a brow as a solemn air fell upon the typically rowdy third years. Their gazes uncannily focused on the flirtatious pitcher kicking at the loose dirt on the mound. The golden-eyed girl recognized that look anywhere.

They were itching to kick some serious ass.

Specifically, the blond pitcher.

Narumiya Mei...

Emiri should remember that name.

(Not like Mei himself would let her forget about him.)

"Ah, _shit_." Emi smacked her palm against her forehead, feeling just a bit exasperated with herself at the moment. "I forgot to ask Kawakami what flavour cupcakes he likes..."

(It broke her heart how downtrodden he had looked pitching against Inashiro.)

— **[ + ] —**

Mei was up to something.

How did Emiri know?

There was a familiar child-like gleam in his eyes that spoke of a rather spoiled personality—as in, he looked like one of her _kohai_ who knew he was about to get his way. _Ugh_. She couldn't help but feel disgusted that she was thinking of that cat-eyed, blond pretty boy at a time like this.

" _Strike_!"

" _Yeah_ ~!" Mei crowed, a smug grin over his lips. Catching sight of a familiar, _fetching_ figure standing at the other side of the fence, he threw out a hand, pointed and wicked at her cockily.

 _Who's cute now, eh, Emi-_ chan _?_ Mei thought smugly, running back into the dugout and soaking in all his teammate's praises.

 _Ugh_. Emi thought, eye twitching in irritation. _Ew._

(Smugness was _not_ his look.)

"What's with that half-assed throw— _ack_!" Eijun bit his tongue as Emiri dug her knuckles into his poor head.

"Emi- _nee_!" The pitcher burst out, rubbing his head. "What was that for?!"

Emi could feel her blood pressure rising—from her cousin's sheer cluelessness or the flirty blond's—well—flirtation, she didn't know. She slammed her fist down on Eijun's head again, stepping on his toes for good measure, grinding just to make sure he winced. "Now you add the – _nee,_ you ass? And learn to read the situation."

(Idly, she wondered when she became such a sadist but then again—Shōichi.)

"Eh?"

"You're _hopeless_ ," Emi shook her head, gripping his jaw between her thumb and index finger. Emiri yanked at his head until he stooped down so they were eye-level. Then, Emi tugged with little gentleness towards the serious _senpai_. "Do they look like they thought that was a half-ass throw?"

"…No?"

"Good observation," Emi enunciated slowly, as if talking to a child. "Because it wasn't. Can you guess what kind of pitch that was?"

"…No."

"So why don't you go ask Chris- _senpai_ for his expertise, hm? That'd be the smart thing to do, right, moron?" Emiri let go of his jaw, pinching his nose tightly until he struggled. Looking over shoulder at the taller first-year pitcher, Emi whistled to get his attention. "Furuya, you too."

The pale boy blinked before nodding seriously. "Hai, Nakano- _senpai_."

"For the love of—is it _that_ hard to call me Emi?" Said girl threw her hands in the air. " _Hell_ , Emiri is fine at this point."

Stupid, _stupid,_ hard-headed baseball idiots.

(...She almost said basketball idiots that time.)

"That little shit—he was holding back the entire time!" Isashiki snarled, gritting his teeth. "And now he's taking it up a notch..."

Yuuki nodded, as solemn as his usual self, though his impressive brows were more furrowed and there was a slight frown to his lips. The other upper years were just as solemn. Well, most of them. As per Emi's directions, Eijun and his rival had gone and pestered Chris as to why everyone was reacting so negatively. Haruichi, Emi noticed, unlike his peers seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

(Emi really loved the boy—he was just so _cute_.)

But besides that, it looked like she wouldn't have to ask Chris what was up later either since Isashiki, the asshole- _asshole,_ was angrily expressing the sentiments of his teammates with his usual scowl—perhaps furrowed deeper—and crossed arms.

"That bastard—he already has a good fastball and horizontal and vertical breaking balls and _now_ , he just had to add a fucking off-speed pitch to his fucking arsenal?!" He kicked at the ground. "Che! How fucking good is that brat going to get!"

 _Oh_.

So that slow-ass pitch of his wasn't accidental—so was it another breaking ball?

Emiri tapped her chin thoughtfully. She probably would've had to search up pitches one day or another since Eijun was a pitcher and he couldn't keep pitching the same fucking ball over and over again—that was just fodder for people to devise strategy against him—so she guessed today was the day. There'd probably be some notes somewhere about the specific grip and how each pitch was supposed to be thrown, but if not, she could always ask Suga, or even Taka.

Maybe then she'd be able to find more tells about each pitch instead of having to painstakingly examine each pitcher individually—it was _exhausting_ to study for habits.

But more importantly.

"Wow, Isashiki- _senpai,_ your vocabulary surprised me just now—so you're more than just an angry, foul-mouthed upperclassman."

"Say that shit again, Nakano!"

Emi sardonically smiled, lifting her hands in front of her exaggeratedly slow and made several motions.

"The fuck are you doing...?"

"You didn't hear me the first time, so I figured you were hard of hearing or deaf—it would explain why you yell so much, you know, trying to compensate for something..."

"Why you— _come here_!"

Emi grinned, ducking behind Ryōsuke after side-stepping Isashiki who had barreled towards her with blind fury. The third-year Kominato smirked wickedly, glancing over at the girl over his shoulder, allowing the girl to use him as a shield.

Isashiki paused.

...Was he going to test Ryōsuke?

The team's collective attention was no longer on the annoying blond pitcher but rather the stand-off between two third-years that was all incited by the more than amused golden-eyed girl. Isashiki glared, not daring to violate Ryōsuke's territory, but more than wanting to throttle his _kohai_. Emi's golden eyes peered over Ryōsuke's shoulder with a delighted shine—and holy shit, this was the first time he'd seen a girl so short.

...Now he kind of felt bad for yelling at and pulling on her.

" _Che_... Learn how to read the fucking mood! I should be focusing on smashing Narumiya's stupid smug-ass face in—not yours!"

"That's right!" Ryōsuke grinned, cooing in that honeyed voice of his that sent shivers up people's spines. "Make sure you hit him in the face with a ball."

Soon, Masuko and Kuramochi joined in the violent vows to knock the blond off his high horse. Even Chris looked particularly thoughtful as he pondered, gazing steadily on Inashiro's dugout—well, when he wasn't explaining to the first-year pitcher-rival duo.

...She maybe felt slightly guilty for setting both the clueless dolts on the reliable third-year but she needed a break too.

(That was a thing, right? Where parents switched roles every so often to give the other a break...)

"Wow, _kaa_ - _san_ ," Miyuki snickered, nudging Emi. "Mei underestimated us but you didn't need to diffuse the tension like that—how _kind_ of you."

The girl retaliated by elbowing him in the stomach.

" _Oi—"_ Miyuki managed to get out before doubling over.

Over the head of the wheezing catcher, Kuramochi shot her a thumbs up, laughing his shrill laugh. Emiri just stared at him flatly, brow raised. Either the shortstop was fucking _stupid_ and thought she wasn't mad at him—

—or he was just fucking stupid.

Did the absolute _hoe_ think her teasing meant she liked him?

Emiri wagged a finger at him, pursing her lips. "You're still on my shit list, don't think Shin- _nii_ can stop me."

Kuramochi choked. "But you said I was cute—I thought..."

"Bitch, you _thought_. And?" Emi raised her eyebrows impossibly high and wagged a finger as if she were scolding a child. "That's about the cutest thing about you right now and I've seen cuter."

Kuramochi gaped, a hand delicately pressed against his uniform and all too well resembling a conservative old woman. Emiri could feel laughter bubbling in her chest and shaking her shoulders—she hated it but that reaction though...

" _No_ —stop that."

Kuramochi grinned—

"I _will_ castrate you, bitch—I _fucking_ dare you." Emi narrowed her eyes, throwing up her tiny hands and balling them into fists.

And so the idiot dared.

" _COACH_!"

(Kataoka legged it, already catching sight of all three catchers grabbing at Emi.)

— **[ + ] —**

"Hi, Kuni- _san_ ,"Emi greeted nonchalantly, pairing the greeting with an even lazier wave of her hand.

The older coach levelled her with the same stony glare she vaguely remembered that he gave to everyone. The golden-eyed girl couldn't help but smile in amusement, stopping beside the rival coach to observe the game between Seidō and the losers of the previous game, Shuuhoku. Like her Shin- _nii, Kuni-_ san hadn't changed all that much from what she remembered, no matter how much fewer memories she held of him.

"Yo, Emi- _chan_!"

...If Kunitomo noticed the golden-eyed girl's _perfect_ impression of him as she caught sight of his pitcher, he did not smirk in amusement.

"Kuni- _san_ , your pitcher is a thirsty bitch."

" _OI_!"

Harada managed to catch Mei around his collar before her barreled into the coach in an attempt to wrap his hands around Emiri's neck. Mei's peer stuck her tongue out childishly and clung onto Kunitomo, the latter placing a placating hand on her head and continued to look forward unflinchingly. The pitcher squawked in outrage, renewing his efforts to lunge for the girl's face.

Whether he was going to smother her with his hands or lips was still up for debate.

"Mei," the catcher and captain scolded, his tone conveying his irritation and the sheer frustration he felt dealing with his temperamental battery partner.

"Masa- _san_ —lemme go!" Mei yanked and pulled and pleaded, whining every time Harada tightened his grip. "I'm going to teach her a lesson!"

"Fat chance, dumb blond," Emi hissed, peering at the blond from Kunitomo's side.

"What was that?!"

"Idiotsayswhat."

"What?!"

Patting her head, Kunitomo easily gained Emiri's attention and removed his steady gaze from the game before him—Seidō had more than the upper hand seeing as their opponents had just played a game. When her golden eyes finally focused on him and away from Mei, he asked in his firm, rumbling voice, "Why aren't you in the dugout annoying Kataoka per usual, Emi-kun?"

Emi grimaced, scrunching her nose as she considered her answer. "He says I'm not allowed in the dugout because I almost filleted Kuramochi—Shin- _nii_ 's saying I'm not being a team player and all that. Fucker."

"Language."

"What? You've heard worse..." Emi pouted. "It's not even my fault; that green-haired bitch was asking to get castrated—I only delivered on his order."

Kunitomo sighed imperceptibly and returned to observing the game. "Emi- _kun_."

"Okay, maybe it's a little my fault but he started it."

"If you're mad at Kuramochi"—Harada cut in, finally managing to curl Mei's enthusiasm—"any chance you'll tell us about Tanba's curveball?"

Emi blanched, like she'd drank curdled milk and Mei wore a similar expression.

"The fuck?" Emiri cussed, looking like she wanted to launch her shoes at his head.

"Masa-san that's not how you flirt with a girl—"

"Shut it, Mei!"

Emiri turned on her heel and tugged at Kunitomo's shirt similar to a child asking for permission from their parent. He nodded though he kept his eyes forward. "I'm going back now—I'd rather deal with Shin-nii's nagging than your team's shitty flirting and espionage."

Emi's words only fueled the argument between pitcher and catcher.

"See, Masa-san—you don't have any game!"

You could hear Harada's temporal vein pop.

"It's you and your goddamn flirting—"

— **[ + ] —**

"Three runs and he grows his hair long..."

The dugout collectively burst out in raucous laughter at Chris' mumbling, the third-year's lips twitching at his own foolishness.

"If he goes bald though, we should call him _pachinko_ — _ne,_ pachinko- _senpai_?" The door to the dugout burst open with a clang as Emiri nonchalantly walked in. Tanba blushed furiously and spluttered at the girl's needling, the third years' laughing at the pitcher's expense.

"Back so soon from seeing your boyfriend?" Miyuki teased, caramel eyes looking blonder with the added tint in his visor.

Emi rolled her eyes and smacked a hand against the catcher's chest plate. "I have a boyfriend—"

 _Ah, wait._

 _No, no she didn't—_

(She could feel his lips pressed against her forehead lovingly, caressing her skin in a chaste way yet promised sinful things.)

Miyuki's grin was downright shitty. "That's not Sawamura?"

(She could see dark hair and glasses and it made her head and heart _hurt_.)

" _Fucker_ —do you want me to kick your ass?"

(She wasn't going to cry here—not in front of everyone.)

"Coa— _mmph_!"

"No you don't you little bitch!" The dark-haired girl slammed her hand over his mouth hard enough to jostle his visor. Miyuki's hands went around her wrist, his elbows out in an attempt to guard from her other hand. Emi totally wasn't about to burst into tears, her face was heating up with anger and frustration and embarrassment—not tears.

"Kick his ass, Emi- _nee!"_

' _Oh, for the love of all—'_

Emiri twisted around with an ugly frown twisting her lips at her cousin's exuberant shout. Now all eyes were on her and the catcher instead of the third years. Above all, Kataoka's gaze was, as it seemed of late, disapproving as he stared at her hard through his glasses. Reluctantly, she withdrew her offending hand as Miyuki let his own hands fall.

Eijun's eyes glinted and Kataoka opened his mouth—

"Next batter!"

' _Saved by the fucking bell_ ,' Emi thought fighting to knock the grin off her face when Kataoka dropped his scolding to pay attention to the umpire. The golden-eyed girl only shook her head at her cousin's continued foolish display caused by Eijun's own absentminded nature, her cousin's look of concern dropping. Normally, she would've been more concerned with how Eijun portrayed their family but...

She sneaked a glance at Miyuki.

(Sometimes... Sometimes she wondered how she and Shōichi lasted so long—or rather why they didn't last longer...)

Her sombre thoughts were interrupted by the third-years' shouts of encouragement as Tanba stepped up the plate, the whole dugout suddenly transfixed by the game instead of their earlier bouts of fun. The girl blinked, suddenly feeling out of balanced as her thoughts scattered and she couldn't quite recognize where she was anymore, only staring blankly into a void that didn't exist in front of her. Emiri was so out of it, she failed to noticed the first-year trio begin to surround her out of concern.

"Hey, Emi- _nee_ —"

"Mm?"

"You okay? You looked like you were about to cry—"

The second-year student shoved her cousin aside, gold eyes wide with panic. Emi yelled, climbing over the baseball players in the dugout, "Dodge! Fucking dodge!"

(She may or may not have stepped on Kuramochi's nuts.)

Arms went out in an attempt to stop her but—

Tanba couldn't hear her. Emi stopped breathing. The ball was coming too, _too_ fast and the pitcher couldn't react—

 _Crack_.

"Tanba!"

"Tanba- _san_!"

"Shin- _nii_ —" Emi whipped around but Kataoka had already taken off for the fallen pitcher. Clicking her tongue, the girl followed the coach, shedding her coat and going as fast as her little legs propelled her.

(Proportionally speaking, Emi had the legs of a corgi.)

"Tanba- _senpai_ ," the temporary manager greeted breathlessly, sinking to her knees beside his prone form.

The taller, older boy, struggled, managing to roll over to look at her with his normally stony gaze—except this time, this time, all Emi saw was pain.

"Tanba—"

"Shhhhh, Shin- _nii_ ," Emi interrupted, "It hit in the face he's not okay."

Kataoka shot her a flat look.

"Help me sit him up."

Shuffling to Tanba's other side, Kataoka managed to get his arm under Tanba to press his large palm firmly against his opposite shoulder blade. He pressed his other hand into the boy's shoulder while Emi did the same to the opposite. The two locked eyes, nodding, before Emiri mouth the count.

Tanba groaned, pain flaring in his face with his cry of pain. The second-year girl shushed him, fingers moving to remove the batting helmet. The pitcher only moaned in pain. Emiri's fingers skimmed over his jawline, feeling for irregularities, except she was stopped my Tanba's strangled groan. Her pretty features pinched, moving to the helmet and attempting to wiggle it off millimetre by millimetre.

Kataoka barked for Ota to get the car around as the crowd began to thicken around them, eyes never leaving Emiri's almost surgical task.

"Your jaw is swollen, you can barely move it and it hurts a like a bitch," Emi murmured to the heaving boy, finally managed to slip the helmet off without agitating him too much. Kataoka caught his head in his hand, steadying the boy. "So you either have a fractured jaw or a broken jaw… I can't tell you which you have because... I don't know I'm not a fucking doctor."

Tanba managed to huff a laugh.

"Emiri, hold him," Kataoka instructed it, moving from his knees into a crouch. Emi chirped an okay, shuffling around to support him from behind, firmly grasping his shoulders as Kataoka stopped supporting the pitcher to address the other coach. The golden-eyed girl managed to maneuver him down, relaxing his head down onto her shoulder. She patted his head soothingly, shushing him further when he groaned.

Emi could hear the quiet, worried whispers of the upper years and lower years. She really wanted to say something uplifting but that… that was a bit out of her abilities. So, as she stared into the too bright, too blue sky, she said one thing.

"This is so fucked up."

— **[ + ] —**

When Emiri woke up at her usual time for school—which, again, was much earlier than she typically would have when she attended Too. Why? Because Too was so, so, _so_ close to her home in comparison to Seidō. Per usual, her hair was a mess, and her ears stung a bit and there was a kink in her neck, but life could be worse.

What she did not expect was a missed phone call from Chris—actually, several missed phone calls—and would you look at that?

Chris was calling again.

"If he's asking me out I'm going to castrate him..." Emi groused, far too tired to actually hold a proper conversation.

(There was no way someone so serious was demanding her attention or affection.)

Fixing her ears, Emiri drew her hair back and sat up, cursing, and tapped to answer the phone call. "Hello?"

 _[Emiri—where are you?]_

Was it her or did he sound out of breath? And worried? And maybe just a little bit panicked? And why did he sound so hot when he sounded like that?

(He could wake her up anytime if he sounded like that all the time.)

…Why?

(She shouldn't be shivering, right?)

"I'm at... home?" Emi paused again, yawning. "This is usually the time I wake up."

 _[Coach is looking for you, and he's... suffice to say, pissed off.]_

"What the fuck…?" Emi grumbled, "What the _fuck_? What does he _want…_ "

 _[I don't think—ah, Coach!]_

Emi hissed venomously as feedback echoed through the speaker, no doubt from Chris haphazardly handling his phone and scraping it against his clothes. She couldn't make out what the two were saying, but she wasn't particularly in the mood to put up with an early morning phone call. Especially, if it was Shin- _nii._

The girl was about to hang up, bored with the lack of conversation and needing to get ready—

 _[Emiri.]_

Huh. Shin- _nii_ sounded pissed.

But what for?

(There was no way he was pissed at _her_ …)

Pursing her lips, Emi shuffled over to the side over her bed and tapped her toes against her cool bedroom floor. "Shin- _nii,_ it's like—I don't know what the time is anymore but it's too early for you to be yelling at me. What did I do?"

 _[You're late for practice.]_

Ah, short and sweet, just like always—

Wait.

She hadn't heard those words in a year—at least, when they were pointed at her.

"I'm not your manager?" Emiri yawned, heading towards the bathroom and swinging her towel over her shoulder. She rubbed her bare legs together, minutely regretting not wearing any kind of bottoms to bed for the umpteenth time.

 _[Our bet.]_

He groused those words, and Emi vaguely noted how angry he was.

But more importantly.

"You were fucking serious about that?!"

She could _hear_ his blood pressure rising through the phone.

"Okay, but this really isn't on me."

 _[Emiri—]_

"But I thought you were joking—" Emi whined uselessly, already hearing the endless scolding she was going to receive from Shin _-nii._

(Needless to say, Kataoka wasn't very up for playing favourites for the rest of the week—or rather, he tried not to.)

— **[ + ] —**

" _Ne_ , Kawakami- _kun."_

Nori looked up sharply, eyes immediately finding Emiri's and his cheeks immediately warmed up. She looked a little sickly today though, and so he frowned, his sweet heart going out to the girl. Coach had been more than a little furious this morning with her missing practice and all—and he had heard some whispers of how exactly their phone call had gone down. Chris had even pulled him aside to ask him to keep an eye on the girl if only to see how she was faring.

Suffice to say, Kawakami didn't think she was faring very well because she had this look in her eyes. It wasn't good nor was it _terrible_... The pitcher wouldn't even describe it as a bad but it wasn't very _good_ , either.

"The draws for the summer tournament happen today, right?"

The pitcher was startled out of his thoughts—heat already rushing to his face when he realized he'd been staring unashamedly as he made his observations.

"Yeah, Nak—Emi- _chan_ ," Kawakami corrected the slip of the tongue, a slight blush running along his cheeks when Emi shot him a short look, lips pressed into a thin line—but despite this the look in her eyes didn't get any better. "Why're you asking?"

The dark-haired girl clicked her tongue loudly, running the muscle along her teeth as she formulated a response. All the while, the second-year pitcher observed her. She looked stressed as opposed to the cool look she had about her. Emi's skin looked paler and splotchy, her bags darker and there seemed to be a permanent frown on her face today.

"Chris mentioned earlier is all," she said softly, not much louder in volume than a murmur.

Even when she was yelling at the loud-mouthed, first-year pitcher, she'd almost immediately schooled her expression into one that seemed frankly unimpressed. Even when she wasn't in a particularly bad mood her voice would carry, grabbing and demanding attention. It was weird to see her like this—seeing her upset made _him_ upset and in the angry, aggressive sense.

It just didn't sit well with him—her expression and demeanor.

"Are you okay?"

Golden eyes disappeared for a moment as she closed her eyes, pressing her lids shut with an annoyed click of her tongue. "Nothing... Nothing. Just some bad memories. Tanba- _san_ being injured doesn't really help me at the moment."

"Do you want me to get Coach?"

Now, Kawakami, much like everyone else, didn't seem to understand the weird pseudo-relationship _thing_ between Nakano and Coach Kataoka but also like everyone else, he didn't question it. All that anyone needed to know was that their hard ass coach doted on her like a parent or older sibling and tended to bend to her whims and put up with her nonsense to the point it was undeniable to label it anything but favouritism.

"Nah," Emi laughed quietly more to herself than to him, waving off his concern with an uncaring hand. "He'd only yell at me."

Kawakami swallowed, not really knowing what to do—it wasn't like Emiri really concerned herself with anyone other than her cousin...

(And wasn't that a relief? Knowing Eijun was her cousin and _not_ her boyfriend...)

"...Do you think Shin- _nii_ would let me skip practice today?"

"Are you crazy."

Emi snorted and then laughed, staring at Kawakami wide-eyed as the pitcher himself drew back at his bluntness.

"I tiny fucking bit, I guess," Emiri laughed, fondness warming her chest a little bit as Kawakami looked even more flustered than when he usually talked to her. Her expression turned serious momentarily, a frown tugging her lips downward. "...I'm not feeling into it is all. Maybe if Miyuki disappeared for a bit, I'd be better."

Her mind was already drawing parallels between baseball and basketball already— _thank you very much_.

She didn't need any more of her thoughts to inevitably stray to her _not_ -boyfriend.

(They broke up because they loved each other— _they broke up because they'd loved each other_... That was all she could tell herself sometimes.)

Kawkami quietly and shyly grasped her fingers in his—his immediate thought being that her hands were so small and delicate and _soft_. He was almost tempted to thread their fingers together when she startled to really look at him. Instead, Kawakami let his fingers fall to his desk and softened her inexplicable gloom with a gentle, kind small.

"Come to practice. I'll talk to the other managers and coach for you."

Emi smiled.

And by that, he meant smiled- _smiled._

Her face literally lit up, and her cheeks puffed like she was about to blurt out something.

But she just laughed and then boldly cupped both cheeks with his hands.

"You're so cute, Kawakami!" She exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention and only serving to make his face redder than the flag. She pinched his cheeks before rubbing the stinging feeling away. "...Thank you."

…And that was how Kawakami was in his current position.

See, Emi had looked so despondent and... out of sync with herself that it was practically impossible for him to _not_ feel pity for her, leading to his current predicament. The pitcher had wrung his hands incessantly—to the point where Shirasu had offered to go in his place—but as Miyuki had always needled him for, Kawakami knew he had to do it on his lonesome. So, here he was—standing in the coach's office and swallowing the baseball-sized lump in his throat.

" _Ano_... Coach?" _Yikes_. Coach didn't look as pissed as he did in the morning but still... "Nakano- _san_ isn't really feeling well?"

Kataoka shifted and—dare he say it—Kawakami thought the voavh looked panicked. "Is she sick?"

"She isn't like that—I mean I don't think she looked or acted sick... She was just sad?"

Kataoka's eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

"Kawakami. Inform the others that'll be late." The coach shrugged his bag off his shoulder, letting it fall to the floor with a careless _thump_. "Where is she?"

"She was in the class last I saw, Coach—"

And like that, he was out of the room.

Kawakami stared...

He really did wonder what exactly the relationship between his classmate and his coach—not that he was the only one that wondered. People often gawked at Emiri's audacity when she talked to and back to the coach, even more so when Kataoka would not only allow it but weather it good-naturally with an eye roll. And the two squabbled like siblings—which sort of made sense since Emo called him "Shin- _nii"_ but then that would also mean that Coach and Sawamura were related...

Yeah. _No_.

The second-year pitcher shook his head ruefully as he stepped out of theoffice and made his way to the field. Dwelling on and brooding over Emiri really didn't do it for him—it made his head, and maybe his heart, too, hurt.

(Still, she looked so sad today.)

— **[ + ] —**

Kataoka didn't have to walk far or for very long when he finally happened upon the tiny little slip of a girl—or rather, she fit that description in his mind. She'd been halfway between the school and the baseball field, all but dragging her feet along the ground and her eyes pointed just in front of her feet. He stared, but she didn't notice. Kawakami had been right to call her sick—she looked ill in a sense—unbelievably sad.

"Emiri."

"...Hi, Shin- _nii,"_ she murmured, her voice almost lost if not for the fact there wasn't a single breeze. She stopped in her slow walk, shifting her bag higher up her shoulder and finally looked him in the eye.

But her golden eyes didn't shine.

They didn't burn with anger, a molten gold that threatened to burn the subject of her ire.

They didn't glow like the soft, comforting flame of a candle when she was feeling affectionate.

And they absolutely didn't shine with the same intensity as the noon sun

Emiri was a brat but she was _his_ brat—he'd rather have her annoying him day-in and day-out with a smile on her face and laughter bubbling from her lips than have her look so bloody sad. Kataoka couldn't even begin to describe how sad she looked but at the same time she also didn't look sad—more... tired?

Raising an arm, Kataoka beckoned her forward until she practically fell into his chest—much like she often did when she was younger and could fit onto his shoulder. Carefully, gently and lovingly, he raised a hand to pet her hair softly, wrapping an arm loosely around her shoulders. Emi wrapped both arms around his neck and squeezed before pulling away.

"Thanks, Shin- _nii."_

He patted her head, nodding at her to follow alongside him as he led them towards the baseball grounds.

"Does being with this team really upset you that much?"

Emi paused, considering her words. "...I'm not angry all the time because the team frustrates me, y'know. Not even because of Eijun."

Their steps sounded unbelievably loud in her ears as they continued forward at a pace that suited her small steps and reach. The constant sound of their soles hitting the ground comforted her a little, and comforted her frayed nerves, but Emiri wasn't anxious.

"I was freaking okay this morning—I promise I was—it's just... I _think_ and it puts me in a mood," Emiri sniffled. Kataoka side-eyed her, wondering if she was going to cry.

He hated it when she cried.

"I don't know them well enough and I only really interact with them because of Eijun. I don't even like baseball. I just know about it. And everyone is talking about the summer tournament, even on the subway and..."

Kataoka put a comforting hand on her head.

"It's going to be a repeat of last year all over again..." Emi finished, breathing out shakily.

The towering man almost pursed his lips, not quite understanding the girl's fears but understanding at the very least that she was uncomfortable and emotionally unsettled. Kataoka didn't know if people were being cruel to her again or if it was something with more emotional attachment that bothered her but all he knew was he didn't like whoever hurt her.

Somehow, someway, he was going to find the cause and have some _words_ with... it.

(Imayoshi Shōichi sneezed, rubbing at his nose irritably because he could not afford to get sick _now_ , of all times.)

"Go home."

"...I just poured my fucking heart out to you and you're kicking me out?"

He chuckled at her change of tone.

She always hated it when people belittled her—even if she was the only one who perceived it as mocking.

(There was a difference in being mean—one, you were being stupidly bigoted or two, you were being purposefully mocking.)

"I have no use for someone whose focus isn't completely on their current task," he said bluntly, a firm hand in between her shoulder blades pushed her in the direction of the school gates. Gold eyes looked up at him, confusion glinting in the metallic hues. "Take a break, Emiri."

Emi hugged him again, catching his waist in her arms and squeezed as tight as she could.

"Thanks, Shin- _nii."_

"Be here for tomorrow afternoon."

She squeezed even harder—as if afraid to let go. "Okay."

(Emi wondered—had wanted to ask for sometime now... How did Shin- _nii_ ever get over Miya- _nee?)_

— **[ + ] —**

The train ride home didn't seem to last very long.

Neither did the short walk from the station to her house.

The night flew by even faster and before she knew it, she was waking up at her usual time and getting ready for school, sans an angry phone call—although she did get a text that made her groan.

But then again, it wasn't everyday she spent the entire evening crying her eye outs surrounded by photos and drawings of him and her or just him—she couldn't find it in her heart to find comfort in snuggling between her parents' chests.

("I miss us.")

— **[ + ] —**

"Emi- _chan_!"

Emi smiled as Kawakami and Shirasu greeted her in turn, both players surprised and equally confused as to why she was in the classroom. Per the norm, the golden-eyed girl was sat at her desk, legs crossed at the knee and alternating between tapping her pencil on a notebook or scribbling something down.

"I thought you weren't coming in today," Kawakami said, giving the girl a once over.

She didn't look so sickly pale today but she still didn't seem quite so icily radiant per the norm. And by that, the boy meant she didn't seem to have an unnatural glow to her today—or, as a matter of fact, yesterday. Though, yesterday was a given considering she looked like _shit_...

(She still didn't really look okay but Kawakami knew, if even as an acquaintance—unfortunately—she was stubborn about what she wanted; what she wanted, she got or made happen.)

"I just needed to cry everything out."

...Neither boy knew if she was joking or not—Emiri's smile was _chilling_ , and the unfamiliar glint in her metallic eyes didn't do her face any favours.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

 _Okay_.

The blond outfielder and the second-year, reserve pitcher shared a look between the two of them. Then they looked at the short with an absolutely explosive temper that did not—at all—match her 'I don't care' demeanor. The boys shared another look. Then they looked back at Emi. Again.

' _She is not okay_..."

Nakano Emiri was being _nice_ , in a way—all without some kind of backhanded insult or jab at her younger cousin that was oddly sort of like the older Kominato brother.

— **[ + ] —**

"Emiri is heading a study night for second and first years until exams."

... _Ah_.

Kawakami and Shirasu shared a look.

Maybe that's why Emi was acting strange. She'd been paler, but healthier than what she looked yesterday—Emi didn't have the same deep, bruise-like gouges under her eyes that she called 'bags.' It'd been a bit obvious thatg the girl was at the end of her rope with her little cousin—and to be honest, the first string—which probably attributed to her temper most days, and the forced sweetness when dealing with the younger Kominato...

The study session—or even _sessions_ —were going to be... _charged_.

(And who knew? Maybe Emiri _would_ be charged with either murder or assault.)

Maybe that's why she'd been on the phone all day—and was she ever discrete during lessons. Shirasu had been a little more than impressed when he caught her texting, one-handed and _not_ looking. To top it all off, her posture was entirely nonchalant and she was doing it with her left-hand—her non-dominant hand.

It was freaky as Hell.

But also weirdly and said a lot about her than he initially expected.

What had been even weirder, in the boys' opinion, was that she had forgone her usual little lunch—or smackdown—with the whining baby pitcher. Perhaps that was who she was texting? But then she made a phone call and neither Kawakami nor Shirasu were ashamed to admit that they had eavesdropped. It wasn't like they were the only ones—at least, _they_ had been discrete about it.

One guy had fallen backwards over his desk as he leaned back to listen.

(Okay, Kawakami was feeling a little guilty—but, like, nobody really knew Emi as it was.)

"Hey, Shohei-oji-san," Emi had greeted cheerily, drumming her nails on the table. "Shōichi isn't going to be home, right?—Can you… _steal_ his notes for me? … _Hai_ , from his second-year please and thank you… I'm actually at Seidō, not at home. I can walk over there—it's like five, maybe ten, minutes, right?"

The girl had chewed on her lips, deciding to occupy her fingers with the ends of her hair instead. The image had been so utterly mundane and yet... _not_ boring.

Her words had been a little disconcerting—she had been talking about _stealing_ —but if they knew another thing aside from her being stubborn?

Emiri was probably crazier than Sawamura.

If only because she was more contained and smarter—it's always those ones you had to watch for.

(Ryōsuke and Miyuki were prime examples.)

Well, at least Coach had been kind enough to give them any kind of forewarning—usually Coach let Emi do as _she_ pleased. Which was wholly unfair but made her even scarier in that she could get away with a lot of things except maiming them. _That_ was the only thing Coach really stood against.

(Although the girl always did complain that he was being a pain in _her_ ass and being stifling.)

If anything, tonight and probably the rest of the week was going to be... _eventful_.

"I fucking love my life," Kuramochi muttered, not too quietly. The shortstop winced discretely, ducking his head and looking like a child that had been scolded.

Kawakami was sympathetic—when Emi stomped on his ball she had grinned absolutely _viciously_.

— **[ + ] —**

"Is that a projector?"

"No fucking shit." Emi's abrasive tone was almost soothing to hear after not hearing it for so long. Coach had kept her relatively away from the team—which, had been very concerning; Chris had looked downright _anxious_ the entire practice. And after hearing her cuss Eijun on out the daily when they had their training camp, it was surprisingly easy to find comfort in.

"Why do we have a projector?" Kuramochi demanded, snot really paying attention as he shoved past some of the others who were blatantly staring.

When the shortstop finally looked up, he had a good idea why.

In the time that they had been out from the dining hall—probably no more than half an hour—Emiri had managed set-up a _mini_ projector, her laptop, and had probably bullied the Coach into arranging the tables into sociable set-up.

Not to mention she'd changed into a pair of very, very, _very_ short shorts.

Like, short enough that they were practically _bloomers_.

At least, the top she was wearing was little less distracting. She'd draped an oversized basketball jersey over her frame, the lettering slightly faded—it was taken care of and loved.

Still.

 _What the fuck_.

"What the fuck?!"

"There's not going to be any fucking tonight."

" _WHAT_ ––No. _NO_. Just––Just––…you know what? Fuck it!"

Miyuki laughed at his teammate's expense, settling down at table that faced the wall the girl had set the projector to project on. Knocked out of their stupor, the other second-years began to herd into the room, nervously picking seats.

Although Emi predicted—and was right—about their chosen seating arrangements.

The first-string boys had banded together, some of the second string—the louder, more blatant ones—joining them after they saw the first-stringers congregate.

The second string had their own little posse, as well as unplaced members, but there was more of a mixing between the latter two than the first two.

The first-years finally managed to trickle in, hesitant to push past their _senpai_.

Emi was sure Eijun would've pushed his way through if Haruichi—and God _bless_ that sweet boy's soul—didn't manage to reign him in.

(Emiri was pretty sure she was half-way in love with the boy.)

Seeing as the first-years hadn't really placed in any of the teams, they mostly broke off into friend groups—most likely ones that were formed based on class distribution or friendships that had lasted from middle school. Of course, the first-string first-year trio were all seated together—like ducklings, right in front of where Emiri had set-up a table just for herself.

Why?

 _Because she was sick of this shit_.

"Keep it coming," Emi ordered, lazily beckoning every last person in. "It's like an hour away from my bedtime—and we got work to do. I hate homework and you guys hate it too, but you _will_ hate me more if we don't start right fucking now."

And just like that, everybody was seated.

"I love how great fear is a motivator," the girl laughed more to herself than anyone. "Great! Now that everyone is here. We're going to do a quick survey and you all better participate because I will complain to the Coach and he will flambé your asses—and if you don't know what that means, you will burn like alcohol. Am I understood?"

They all nodded.

"Lovely to see everyone here has the brain cells to know that I am not in the mood—good job, Miyuki, I didn't know you could grow brain cells in that short amount of time, but ku–fucking–dos to you."

Emi had the gall to punctuate her words with a double thumbs up.

Miyuki's eyebrow twitched as the other second-years—and Eijun—snickered at his expense. "Nakano—"

—the door was wretched open.

And everyone turned to stare.

(Miyuki shut his mouth—he wasn't about to risk anything if Coach caught him antagonizing her.)

"Why the fuck—oh. Oh! Shohei- _oji-san_!"

The golden-eyed girl waved, scooching off the bench and practically ran at the man.

And almost falling. Twice.

(Miyuki filed that tidbit of clumsiness away for the day the to of them could really go at it.)

The man was largely unknown, so they all didn't react as enthusiastically as Emi did.

Well.

Except one—and in the opposite side of the spectrum.

"I-I-Imayoshi- _oji-sama_!" Eijun stood stiff as a board, literally _shaking_.

There wasn't anything disturbing about the polite man—he was dressed in what some would categorize as business casual, the sleeves of shirt rolled neatly up to his elbows. He'd taken the _piece de resistance_ of the suit off—the jacket—and had it casually thrown over his arm while the other carried a simple, canvas tote with a koi fish design. His smile was disarming—a tad out of place on the man's otherwise hard face but nobody would call him _frightening_.

Eijun's expression, on the other hand, looked like he'd been caught in the middle of a horror movie come to life.

"Ah, Eijun- _kun_ ," Imayoshi- _san_ greeted, raising a hand as if to quell the poor boy's shaking. "I see you're still scared out of your mind by my son."

Emi's face twisted then—lips pouting then frowning and then twisted into an ugly expression.

"He's got none of your tact," Emi bitterly grumbled, muttering several ruder and more vulgar words under her breath—but still loud enough to elicit a laugh from their visitor. Imayoshi- _san_ patted her head in a comforting gesture—not unlike how Kataoka treated the little Hell-raiser—but in a more... fatherly gesture.

"He's still learning," the older man soothed in a mockery of a croon. He stopped petting her hair to tilt her head back to look at him, overly long fingers catching her chin. "Am I dropping you home?"

"No, _tou-san_ is coming with Suzu later—she needs to pick something up from the house—"

"—Suzu-nee is coming?!—" Eijun gasped, horrified.

"—so they're going to pick me up since I'm sort of in-between." Emi finished, completely ignoring her cousin's distress.

Sawamura looked like he was either going to cry or vomit or _both_. His peers and _senpai_ gave him ample space just in case. Although you _had_ to pity the boy—his face was turning purple because he had _stopped_ breathing from the news that this "Suzu" was coming.

Another relative?

Perhaps—seeing as the two cousins both referred to her as their sister. Eijun evidently called Emi his sister so it wasn't that far of stretch, but...

Three members of the Sawamura family.

At Seidō.

Altogether.

 _That_ did not sound healthy for anybody.

"Well, then—farewell," Imayoshi-san said suddenly, ruffling the shorter girl's hair once more before handing her the bag, swiftly and gracefully turning on his heel.

"Thank you, Shohei- _oji-san_!"

The man gave a careless wave over his shoulder—the one that he had not draped his suit jacket on. Despite that, Emi smiled fondly and she continued to smile—

—until she turned around.

Miyuki grinned as her expression fell—her lips pinching dangerously as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in annoyance. It wasn't that Emi _hated_ Miyuki—not so much as hate, but was more annoyed by him—but neither did she find herself liking him as a person. It was a similar sentiment she held toward the older—and less cute—Kominato brother.

Both Ryōsuke and Miyuki, in combination, reminded her a little too much of Shōichi.

Which was, all things considered, a bad thing since they weren't exactly talking without resulting her in crying and him pissed off.

(He could never be pissed off at her—never directly at Emiri.)

But she would give credit due to that Miyuki was a talented player—even if she didn't know baseball.

All things considered, she should have at least gotten along well with Miyuki on the basis that he was like Shōichi, but that wasn't the case. Emiri reveled in the fact that they were like Shōichi—no matter how shitty it made her feel sometimes—it was just that, in Miyuki's case in particular, they weren't nearly as direct.

It could cause problems and it _would_ cause problems later on.

And yet the smarmy bastard continued his days with an infuriating smile on his face as if he had no care in the world.

At least, Shōichi had the decency to look nonchalant if not bored when there wasn't something that particularly interested him—at least he had a decent control of his face—

"Ano... Emi- _nee_?"

' _...the fuck do you want_ ,' Emi thought rather viciously, forcing a breath out her nose as she turned to look at her cousin. "Yeah?"

Eijun cringed back, and Emiri felt the slightest twinge of sympathy for her cousin—she didn't know why she was being mean anymore but she was being _mean_. Again. It was bad enough that Kawakami cowered from her on occasions...

(Come _on_ , she was the nice one, okay?)

Luckily, Haruichi caught her cousin by the elbow, supporting the taller first-year and offered Emi a polite smile. "Emi-san, Coach said you were going to tutor us?"

She blinked solidly for a moment.

"Yeah—Yeah! That's what we're going to do... yeah," Emi finished lamely, hiking the printed bag higher up her arm to settle at the crook of her elbow. "So... Second-years on one-side and first-years on the other—no more than eight to a table—and choose wisely."

The girl looked exasperated as she ordered this, fixing everyone with a dry stare that spoke of experience.

"I refuse to have these sessions to be not-productive because guess what? I can be studying too—instead of doing all... This." She finished lamely, gesturing at the populated room.

"But Emi-nee don't you cram—"

"Shut up, who's the smart cousin here."

"But—"

"Ah!"

"Emi- _nee_ —"

"Hm!"

"Would you—"

"Nope!" Emi chirped cheerily, closing her eyes to give her cousin the biggest, fakest full-blown smile to ever grace her face. Eijun drooped, only to be mildly comforted by Haruichi patting his shoulder. "And I better not see anyone on their phones."

"You're always on your phone!"

"Because _I_ have friends."

—she went _there_.

"Okay. So... As far as I'm concerned, I am _not_ here to tutor any of you—rather I am here, to help you formulate sort-of a study syllabus and help clarify any misunderstandings any of you guys have." Emiri cleared her throat as she spoke, pressing some keys and poking at the projector until it turned on. "...Is this going to turn on are am I going to have to terrorize people in the AV committee?"

...There was a distinctive, shared feeling among them as they all imagined what would happen to those poor, poor schoolmates of theirs.

"Yay! Look it's on," she smiled as she spun around but it just looked... malicious. "Where was I?"

Someone in the back bravely raised their hand. "You wanted to do a survey?"

"Right, right…" Emi smoothed out her top. "Just put your hand up for whatever subject you need help with the most. Math…? Science? In general, by the way… English? History? And I think literature should round us out…"

Emi looked at the collection of hands, mentally taking note of the rough amounts of hands that went up for each subject—or stayed up for multiple subjects. Shin- _nii_ had told her there were about sixty second and first-years combined—fifty-nine to be exact—and the room looked a bit underfilled for sixty… There were maybe forty-five to fifty people in the room—most of them first-years.

The second-years were at best twenty strong, the rest probably not wanting to study with such a large group or though it a waste of time.

But at least she didn't have to teach any of the second-years high school study habits.

Hopefully.

The first-year majority was probably due to the fact that they _were_ first-years. While Emiri didn't find the transition between high school and middle school all too difficult, she knew some people that did. Transitioning was hard for anyone, much more so those who were in an environment that they weren't all too comfortable in. Add in the fact that they probably knew about a handful of people properly, much less comfortably, and the fact many of them were residents in the dorms didn't do them any favours.

(There was also the inferiority-superiority complex she would probably have to deal with later as a manager if she stayed on—and knowing Shin- _nii_? He was going to make sure she stayed on.)

"So, I developed this method of studying back in middle school for exams with my basketball team." Emi shifted in her seat, ignoring the pointed, incredulous stares aimed at her face. "All the people who struggle with math the most, will group together. So will science. And so on and so forth. I'm not doing this to set you guys up for failure, I'm doing this because you're more likely help each other understand what you're doing wrong and find ways to combat that."

They looked at her like she had second head.

Which, did not do them any favours because Emi did not like talking so much if she had to.

Despite how loud she could be, the girl was very much accustomed to serenity and beautiful quietness.

Emi pursed her lips. "Stupid people understand stupid people. Smart people understand smart people. And regular people understand regular people. If you still don't understand that I can't help you."

They moved.

 _Finally_.

Of course, the boys mingled a bit, laughing and chattering as they settled into groups—there was some confusion going around but there were some players that took the initiative to call out the subject they struggled with, allowing there to be some convergence. Emi noted their faces—it was hard to admit your shortcomings so blatantly when you just one and not one amongst a number. Shin- _nii_ should consider them as future leaders––

"Why are sitting next to me?"

Miyuki laughed. In the chaos, he had thought Emi had lost track of him and hadn't noticed him cozy up beside her, too distracted by the mess of everyone moving and huddling close. " _I_ don't really struggle with anything—or were you not paying attention, Nakano?"

Emi gave him an ugly look. "Then why are you here? _Leave_."

"Nope," he popped the 'p' for emphasis, enjoying the way her eye twitched in irritation. "I like it here."

Emiri could feel her blood pressure rising.

"Fuck you."

"Buy me dinner first."

"Fuck me."

Miyuki laughed at her.

This was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey y'all! It's been like six months and that's on my ass for poor timing and becoming far too consumed by work and uni. Thank you for Mika, who asked me if I was alive. Let me just say, I am breathing... Anyways, that little comment knocked me off my ass to actually work on this because _fuck my feelings!_ As in, my insecurities, btw. You guys are so lovely and so sweet and absolutely do not deserve to be ghosted. Anyways, I was insecure a bit about this chapter because I wasn't nearly finished the studying scene but like 12k is a bit too much of a chapter for even me to read so here it is. **

**Also, yes, Emi really out here worrying about a man that ain't really her man (at least not anymore) but she just like most of us so that's okay.**


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